For Good and Proper
by Bellarsam Chrisjulittle
Summary: My second DA fic, this time multi-chapter. Starts at S02E03, but goes more AU from there. Finding Bates again leads Anna to make a difficult decision for the both of them, but it may be the only hope for the future they so long for together.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_This is just my idea of an alternate way of how things could have gone for Anna and Bates, starting at Season 2, Episode 3 and going slightly AU from there. The whole plotline of Bates accused of murder and separating the two like that nearly killed me, and this is my way of healing my heart. Not too many risks in this story; since this is only my second DA fic, I'm starting slow. Because I'm also working on another muiti-chapter story in another forum, don't expect quick updates, but they will come and I will make sure to finish it rather than leave it. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated; I can't tell you how much the reviews for my first DA fic "Natural" meant to me. Without them, I probably wouldn't have the courage to write this one. Please enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: **_ I do not own Downton Abbey; Julian Fellowes does. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have put my favorite characters through the ringer nearly as much as he did. Most of the dialogue from this chapter is taken directly from S02E03._

* * *

**One**_  
_

When the motorbus jerked to a stop just outside The Red Lion in Kirbymoorside, Anna felt every cell in her body heat up on alert, ready for anything. But as she stood up and made her way off the bus, her legs felt as shaky as those of a newborn colt's. Her hands held the straps of her handbag very tightly as the motorbus drove away. The sky above was cloudy, threatening another fall of rain after the showers this morning.

Though the air was thick with moisture, Anna only felt the air thick with her anticipation, her nervousness, her confusion, and her fear of what this meeting could result from. Ever since she had thought she'd caught a glimpse of him the previous week, Anna's mind and soul had been in turmoil with confusion and questions, the biggest of which was what in the world was he doing here?

When Lady Mary had told her Mr. Bates's whereabouts, thanks to Sir Richard Carlisle, she had asked Anna what she would do with this information. For a brief moment, Anna had thought of leaving the information alone for a while. Was she ready yet to face him again, after the way he had left and her dreams had been shattered? By seeing him again, would she find new hope, or would it only confirm her dreams would never come true?

But that hesitation had only been fleeting. All layers peeled away, the simple truth was that Anna was still in love with him, and she needed answers.

Forcing her nerves down, Anna turned from the street and walked to the front door of the pub, her fingers trembling as she turned the handle. She entered into a tiny inner hall, the walls made of frosted glass, with patterns of clear glass in the center of each panel. Walking to the door leading into the pub, peaked through one of the patterns, which gave her a good view of the bar.

At first, she only saw one man behind the bar that certainly wasn't Mr. Bates; he was thinner and had gray hair. But then, another man came into view, carrying a bottle to put back on the shelf. His back was to her, but Anna didn't need to see his slow, careful, limping step to know it was Mr. Bates. She would know him anywhere.

Seeing him sealed her fate. Anna knew that there was no way she could turn back now. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest, she was surprised that he could not hear it from here. Her breath caught in her throat before she forced it back, breathing deeply as she opened the door inside. She barely heard the sound of the overhead bell tinkling; blood was pounding in her ears.

His back was still to Anna as she walked inside, stepping away from the door so as not to block it. He was pouring a drink for a man standing at the register. Part of her heart was screaming for him to turn around, while the other part willed herself to disappear, for she had no idea what to say to him when he would, inevitably, turn around. So many things came to mind – most of which she wanted to shout – but none of them appropriate for this public setting.

Finally, Mr. Bates turned around with the drink he had just poured for the customer, handing it to him. "That's one and eight, altogether…" he said, his voice fading as his eyes fell upon her. The expression in his eyes instantly changed from neutral to surprised.

Meeting his eyes gave Anna appropriate greeting words, surprising herself by how neutral, even cold, her tone was when she felt the complete opposite. "Might I have a glass of cider?"

Remembering his customer, Mr. Bates broke her gaze and made change to the man, looking back at her after the man had thanked him and walked away from the register. After the man had walked past Anna, she slowly walked up to the bar, still looking at him, keeping her expression neutral.

Watching him, Anna could see he was surprised, even unnerved, by the sight of her. Most people wouldn't have realized that, because stoic Mr. Bates was not a man who revealed his emotions unless absolutely necessary. But Anna knew him like no other, and his shock and nervousness were evident to her.

After a moment that seemed like an hour, of them both standing there with the bar between them, Mr. Bates finally spoke in his quiet voice. "I don't know if I've dreaded this moment or longed for it."

Whatever she may have expected him to say, that wasn't it. _At least he is being honest with me, _she thought, but that didn't stop Anna from feeling just a bit more cold towards him now. "Well, either way, it's happened."

She could see that what she said rattled him, but kept her gaze upon him. Her eyes felt on fire with all of the questions she wanted to ask him. Eventually, Mr. Bates sighed and said, "Would you go to that free table by the window and wait for me? I'll be with you in a moment."

Hearing the plea in his voice and seeing it in his eyes, Anna nodded and, without another word, made her way to the said table, sitting down stiffly on one of the two chairs. After placing her handbag on the windowsill, she folded her hands and waited. If she could be patient for four years waiting for him to be honest about his feelings and intentions towards her, she could wait one minute for him to join her. She did not remove her hat or gloves, or attempt to make herself comfortable. She still felt restless, and eager for answers.

True to his word, he came to her a minute later, holding a glass of cider for her. She'd forgotten she'd even asked for it. His eyes met hers, and stayed in her gaze as he set the glass on the table before her.

"Thank you," said Anna, a bit breathlessly. It had been so long since they had been with each other, stood in his gentle gaze, smelled his familiar aftershave, felt the warmth radiating from his body. The butterflies in her stomach danced a joyful dance. But as he took a seat opposite her at the table, she ignored them with determination, and took a long sip of cider to dampen them. She had come here for answers, not to get her hopes up and subsequently smashed again.

Looking at his face, Anna could see that he also wanted answers: about how she had found him. He'd just told her he didn't know if he had wanted that or not. And if she really had seen him in the village last week, he clearly had not wanted to speak to her or be seen by her at all. _What a mess, _thought Anna, _but I'd better answer his question to ensure my questions are answered later._

So, keeping her face neutral as she could, Anna took a deep breath and spoke in her same cold tone. "Last week, I was running errands in the village. As I was about to go into one of the shops…I thought I saw you. But when I ran over to where I'd seen you, or thought I'd seen you, you were nowhere to be found. I thought there was a true possibility I was going mad.

"I was preoccupied and unnerved all day, and Lady Mary noticed as I was preparing her for bed. I told her what happened, and she said she would ask Sir Richard Carlisle to enquire about you, whether you were still in London or not. Yesterday, Lady Mary told me what Sir Richard had found out: that you worked and lived here now. And I had to see for myself. So here I am."

Anna ended her story with a little shrug, feeling none of the indifference she was trying to convey, not to hurt him but to protect herself. Mr. Bates had listened to her tale attentively, keeping his eyes on her. In the silence that followed, Anna knew that her eyes conveyed the turmoil in her heart, and she begged him silently to end her suffering.

The grumbling chatter and clinking of glasses around them were nonexistent in their ears – all that existed for them now was each other.

After putting his forearms on the table and pressing his palms together, he spoke to her. "It _was _me," he said, and Anna instantly felt relieved that she had _not _gone mad. "I knew you used to go into the village on a Wednesday, and…" He paused for a moment, letting his longing for her shine in his eyes. "I so longed for a glimpse of you."

His last words made Anna's heart swell, to know that he had been missing her as much as she had been missing him. But this also made her angrier: he had wanted to see her, but would not let her see him? She would rather he had ignored her completely than been kept in the dark like that.

Anna did not try to disguise her quiet anger from her voice when she asked what she had come here to ask: "But why are you up here at all? And why didn't you tell me?"

To Anna's relief, he replied right away. "Because I want to get things settled first." He lowered his eyes briefly as he continued, keeping his voice low in the public place. "You see, I've discovered that Vera has been unfaithful to me. I've got proof."

Anna couldn't say that this news surprised her, considering what a horrible woman that witch was. She averted her gaze for a moment as she replied in an attempt to make her tone light, "We can't criticize her for that."

"No, but it means I can divorce her," said Mr. Bates, his gaze and tone serious and begging her to listen. She did. "I've had to leave the house to prove that it has broken the marriage. So I came up here to be nearer you."

"But what if she fights it?" Anna immediately asked. While it warmed her heart to know that he was fighting to break his marriage, they had been down this road before. When he had proposed to her, he had been certain that he could finally divorce Vera, and then the wicked witch had taken him away, shattering Anna in the process.

"She can't," replied Mr. Bates with certainty, reassurance and pleading shining in his eyes. "For her to divorce me, she needs something beyond adultery…cruelty or suchlike. For a husband, adultery is enough."

Even though Anna was glad of this fact, in Vera's context alone, she couldn't help but feel annoyance about the principle in general. Again averting his gaze, she muttered, "That's not very fair to women."

"I don't care about fairness – I care about _you._"

Though his voice remained hushed, the desperation and fierce tenderness in his tone touched Anna's heart deeply, and she brought her gaze back to him again. Her face remained impassable, but she could feel her walls crumbling down inside. Her coldness she used as a shield to protect her fragile heart; she knew it hurt him, but both knew she had every right to do much worse to him.

Mr. Bates resumed, the expression in his eyes stronger than ever. "The point is, I can get rid of her. If she goes quietly, I will give her money, and plenty of it. If not, she leaves empty-handed."

"And when will this be?" asked Anna, the final question that she needed the answer to most, if he felt sure it could happen.

"I need to get her to accept it first. She's made threats about selling stuff to the papers."

Anna hadn't expected that. "What stuff?"

"Don't worry," replied Mr. Bates, not looking at all worried. "They won't offer what I will."

Anna took a breath and lowered her gaze again, taking this information in. She wondered if Vera's threats about releasing information to the papers had been the true reason why Mr. Bates had left all those months ago. It made more sense than him 'being reminded of his vows,' especially now that he was trying to dissolve them. Anna hoped that was the case.

He brought her attention back to him by a simple observation, his tone tender and intimate. "You've changed your hair."

She looked at him briefly again and quickly looked away as she felt blood rushing to her cheeks, self-conscious of what he had pointed out. _And I was told that men never noticed things like this, _she thought. "I was trying out Lady Mary's new curling iron," she said with some embarrassment. _And because I foolishly wanted to be pretty for you._

When Anna looked at him again, she found him gazing at her with just the barest hint of a smile that spoke volumes to her.

"What do you think?" she asked, unable to stop the words coming out. _Only with him do I sound as shy as a blushing schoolgirl…_

His smile widened a bit, his tone of voice matching the tenderness and devotion in his gaze. "I think I would love you, however, whatever, whenever."

And just like that, her last resistance crumbled and her fragile heart went out to him. He had only said he loved her – in direct words – once before, as they'd held each other after sharing their first kiss when he had proposed to her. Of course he had told her as much many other times in gestures, in looks, in actions, but to hear them said like that was something she would always treasure.

Tears came to her eyes and a lump rose in her throat. She pushed both back resolutely as her heart took over her speech. "We don't have to wait, you know. If you want me to throw up everything and come with you, I will. Gladly." She meant it too, even if her mind and logic were screaming otherwise. A woman in love would, when tested, always choose love if within her grasp, whatever shape or form. It was a simple law of nature.

Her declaration seemed to jar Mr. Bates a bit, and the desperation returned to his eyes. "I can't marry you yet, not legally. And I won't break the law."

Her heart still speaking for her, Anna said the words before she even considered stopping them: "It's not against the law to take a mistress, Mr. Bates."

As soon as the words had left her mouth, a new turmoil boiled inside her. He gazed with intensity into her eyes, piercing through to her very soul as only he could, and she knew that he could see it, much as she tried to hide it.

Wordlessly, without breaking her gaze, he finally opened his hands, silently asking for her own. She looked down at them, and gladly put her gloved hand in his warm grasp after so long. Though her glove blocked the skin-to-skin touch they both craved, for now it was enough, and a great relief, to both just to be able to touch at all.

When she met his gaze again, he said firmly, gently, lovingly, "I know you, Anna Smith, and I love you – and that is _not _the right path for you."

Anna couldn't deny that this hurt a little bit, only because she wanted to be close to him, and their only available option of being close now he was throwing away.

Of course she couldn't hide anything from him in her eyes, and he saw the flash of hurt and understood it completely. "It won't be long now," he said, his tone more soft and intimate than ever, filled with promise that, for the first time since he had left eight months ago, she began to believe in.

At that moment, their world was interrupted by the sound of Mr. Bates's co-worker calling to him from the bar. "Bates! The afternoon rush'll be comin' in any minute."

Mr. Bates sighed and turned to his co-worker. "Be there in a moment, Henry," he called back, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. Anna sighed too, knowing their meeting had come to an end.

He turned back to Anna and asked, "How long are you in the village for?"

Anna looked at the clock in the pub. "I've got some errands to run while I'm here…the return bus'll pick me up in about two hours time."

He heaved a deep sigh and looked down. "My shift doesn't end for three more hours." He looked up at her again and they both stood up, coming around the table to each other; he still had not let go of her hand. "Will you come back before you go? To say goodbye?"

Anna nodded, knowing it would be useless to try and refuse him. But she also felt a desperate need to now be alone, to be in the fresh air, to think. She took her hand back and took her handbag from the windowsill. After rummaging through it for some coins, she pulled them out and left them on the table by her partially-drunk glass of cider.

"Anna, I'll take care of that –" Mr. Bates began, but Anna held up her hand.

"No, you won't," she said firmly. "I ask for it, I pay for it." Both could sense the double meaning in her words, however subconscious; it terrified them both a little bit.

Feeling the need for fresh air more than ever, Anna managed to give him a small smile, nodded her head, said, "See you in two hours, Mr. Bates," and walked out of the pub without another word or glance. The fresh, moist air outside did good for her flaming cheeks, and it filled her lungs and spirit with new energy and determination.

_Yes…I must make a decision now…and make sure it is the best one for the both of us…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

_I ask for it, I pay for it._

The words that Anna had almost snapped at Mr. Bates kept playing over and over in her head as she ran her errands in the village. When the shopkeeper in the bakery had to nearly yell at her to pay, Anna decided that she needed some time to herself to think over her entire situation.

After leaving the bakery, Anna walked to the small park she knew was nearby. She sat down on a bench, putting her bags and purse beside her, and fell into deep thought. Of course, she thought about him, and why shouldn't she? He was her world, her everything, her life.

These last eight months without him had been hard, the hardest of her life. But seeing him again a week ago, talking to him again today, made Anna realize just how hard it had been, and how much she missed his presence beside her at Downton. Sitting beside each other at every meal, working on various clothing items in the courtyard on nice days, sharing a cup of at night when both had to work late. All of their conversations, their jokes, their laughter, their exchanges, casual or intimate…each was a precious memory to Anna now, and she wanted that back. She wanted him back with her, sharing in their routine again.

Even when they had been only acquaintances, Anna felt like they had been a team of sorts: always beside each other, ready to help the Crawleys whom they respected and cared for, there for Gwen and William through their troubles, strong against Thomas and O'Brien. A team…a partnership…together…one…That's how they were meant to be. Of that, Anna was sure of more than anything else. They were meant to be together.

Again, for a brief moment, Anna wanted to tell him again that she would give up everything and come to him, and be with him in the only way they could be now. _If he asked, I would be his, _thought Anna…and this frightened her. Unlike Ethel, who had a very romantic view of the world, Anna had always been a pragmatist, a realist as well as an optimist. While she had dreams, she knew where to draw the limit. When dealt a set of cards in life, she would play them in the best way she could, rather than pointlessly wish she had gotten different ones.

_I ask for it, I pay for it…_Could Anna pay the price of such a decision? Was throwing everything up, joining him here, and becoming his mistress the best way to play the hand she had been dealt? Mr. Bates didn't think so, and had never thought so. She remembered his words:

_I know you, Anna Smith, and I love you – and that is not the right path for you._

A small part of her wanted to snap at him, to yell at him, to let her make her own decisions about what path she ought to take in life. She'd wanted to do that when he had left Downton, when he'd refused to accept that she had learned the truth and not just his mother's truth, when he'd refused to tell her what held him back from her…But that part of her dissolved forever when Anna thought about, not the latter half of the sentence, but the former.

_I know you, Anna Smith, and I love you._

A powerful wave of realization swept over Anna; tears filled her eyes and she took a deep breath to control the sob that wanted to escape. Two things became crystal clear in her mind: what she wanted, and what she had to do to get it. Taking a deep breath of determination, Anna got up from the park bench, picked up her parcels and purse, and made her way to a shop she knew sold stationary.

* * *

In the following two hours after Anna had left the pub, John had thought time had never moved so slowly. Every few minutes his eyes would go to the clock, or he would check his watch. Each time, he scowled silently, and cursed the fact that he had to work when he would much rather be with Anna after so long. Of course, he blamed himself for that separation, and didn't blame her at all for her coldness and distance today.

_But what else could I have done in good conscience? _

He had to make her understand that. He couldn't let her go back to Downton without understanding that he loved her and was doing all he could to be with her in the way she deserved. He had to make sure that when she left, she left with hope in her heart.

Finally, after an eternity, the soft tinkle of the bell announced Anna's arrival, just when she told him her bus would come. There she stood, holding her purse in one hand and a basket with some parcels inside in the other. She looked at him in a way that caused his heartbeat to quicken. Her gaze was powerful, drinking him in. He saw determination, fear, and love he was still afraid to believe in shining clearly in the blue irises. From that gaze, John knew in his heart that something important was about to happen with them.

"Henry, I'm going to walk her out, cover for me?" he muttered distractedly to his co-worker as he untied his apron. Henry nodded and then continued cleaning the glass he was working on.

After Bates had hung up his apron, put on his jacket and grabbed his cane, the both of them walked silently out of The Red Lion, and stopped at the side of the road in front of it. John turned his head to look at Anna, who was biting her trembling lip as she set down her basket on the ground. She straightened and turned to face him. The look in her eyes, the same as it was in the pub, was something he was afraid to interpret. If he didn't know any better…

"Anna," he breathed, imploring silently that she was not saying what he feared the most she would be saying. Of course, the logical part of his mind should be rejoicing, but it was too late for that.

In response, Anna held up a hand, signaling him to be silent. Lowering her gaze, she took something out of her coat pocket, and he saw it was a sealed envelope with a letter inside. She put the letter in his hands as she met his gaze again. "Read it when you can," she said softly, her voice trying to control the quiver in it, but failing. "And please…heed what I say."

He felt even more frightened now. So, naturally, he thought the worst. _She's saying good-bye. She's giving up on me, on us…it's too much for her…I've given her nothing but pain and I've broken her…_John could think of nothing to say as he looked at Anna, and saw the tears in her eyes. His fears grew, and he raised a hand to touch her face.

But before it could, the rumbling motor of the approaching bus caused both to jump, and he dropped his hand. Recovering herself, Anna met his gaze again and removed one of her gloves. She then raised her now bare hand to his face, softly cupping his cheek. Both felt a strong relief and joy at the skin-on-skin contact they had been without for months. John pressed that hand to his cheek with his, leaning into her touch, kissing her palm, inhaling her scent, closing his eyes and drinking in the moment for all it was worth – for he still feared it might be the last.

Then he felt her own cheek pressed against his exposed one. The moisture he felt on it broke his heart – he couldn't tell if it was his, hers, or both. Then she whispered hoarsely in his ear, "I love you."

His free arm wrapped around her waist, holding her there for a moment as the bus screeched to a halt by them. "My heart is yours, and always will be," he whispered rawly before letting her go. Both had tears in their eyes now. Then Anna picked up her basket again and got on the bus quickly, without another word. Only when she was seated by the window did she look at him. Their eyes stayed on each other as the bus began to take her away. John did not so much as move again until the bus was down the road and out of sight.

And when he did move, it was to close his eyes in silent prayer. _God…_But he didn't even know what he was praying for. Only one word sounded in his prayer. _Anna…Anna…Anna…_

* * *

For the remaining hour of his shift, John Bates threw himself into work. He knew he would lose his mind if he didn't. It wasn't until Henry gently tapped his shoulder did he realize he was working past his end time. He nodded to his co-worker, a good man if sometimes a little gruff, and made himself ready to leave.

Anna's letter hadn't left his inner jacket pocket since he'd put it there, and as he put on the garment again, he felt the weight of it like a rock. Half of him wanted to tear off the envelope and read her words to him, while the other half wanted to burn it for fear of it telling him her final good-bye. But deep in his heart, he knew he could never damage that letter, for it came from her. Anything that came from the woman he loved was more precious than gold to John Bates.

He only lived a block away from the pub, in a spare flat above the bakery he rented out. It was small, basically furnished, but John had lived in much worse and could never complain of it. After stripping himself of his shoes and jacket, John took the letter into his bedroom and shut the door. He sat on his bed, letting his leg – which was throbbing slightly – rest after being on his feet all day. But his attention was not on his leg: it was on the letter he held in his hands. On the envelope was written one word in her handwriting:

_John_

It occurred to him then that she had never called him by his Christian name aloud. He'd suggested it to her when he'd proposed, and he couldn't deny that one of his most precious wishes was that she call him John. For now, though, it would have to do to see it written by her.

John took a deep breath; he could avoid this no longer. With trembling fingers, he opened the envelope, pulled out the letter, unfolded it, and began to read...


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

_Dear Mr. Bates,_

_There is so much that I need to say to you in this letter, I hardly know where to begin. All I want to say is so clear in my mind, but forming into words to put on this paper is more of a challenge. I wonder if this would be easier if I were to communicate this by speaking directly to you. Somehow I doubt it…through it all, I would be controlling my voice, blinking back tears, and willing myself not to hold you. Also, this way you will not be able to stop me, interrupt me, or attempt to correct me. I need to say all that I need to say, whether you want to hear it or not. I pray you will read this letter to the end, no matter how much some of my words will hurt you. If there is one thing that I could never do, it is to lie to you, Mr. Bates. So I will not try to, and I pray you do not hate me for it. _

_When you left, I watched from one of the upstairs windows. If my heart had been torn from my chest, tied to the back of that carriage, and dragged with it leaving a trail of my heart's blood all down the path…only that could have equaled the pain I felt watching you leave with her, leave Downton, leave my life._

_I wish I could say that, as time went on, living became easier, my pain lessened, and my heart healed. But, as I've told you before, I cannot lie to you. No words could describe that first month. Everything I saw, everything I heard, everything I did, and everything I thought seemed to call back some image or memory of you. At each meal, your empty place beside me seemed to scream its presence always. So many nights, I would bury my face in my pillow so Ethel could not bear witness to my emotions tearing out of me. There is more I could write about that month, but I will not cross the border from honesty to cruelty. You don't deserve that, and I know reading this is hard enough for you._

_The holidays were something of a turning point for me. I expected them to be nothing short of hell without you there. While I missed you no less than before, I became aware of the support system that had been holding me up since you left. Their gifts and kind words made me realize all of the little acts of kindness, protection and support they had given me since you left – not to say they were never there before, but they had increased greatly. Mrs. Hughes and Lady Mary especially have been wonderful; they've made it clear I can always count on them for help and support if ever I need it. Mr. Carson acts like a protective dragon over me if your name is ever mentioned; Mrs. Patmore and Daisy always let me know when my favorite were being made and snuck me slices; both William and Mr. Branson have taken it into their heads to be my brothers and protect me as a sister. This will shock you, but Miss O'Brien does a kindness by not talking about you (at least, in my presence she doesn't, which is more than I ever expected of her). _

_Even those upstairs beyond Lady Mary showed me their kindness and support in their way: his Lordship, her Ladyship, and the Dowager Countess. At the Servant's Ball, each made it clear to me how much I was valued at Downton. I've never felt so humbled or gratified in my life; while I know I'm no better than anybody else, I do work hard._

_This knowledge of the support around me helped me learn to live at least tolerably. I threw myself into my work – which is nothing to sneeze at to begin with – and made myself as productive as possible, doing any extra work that was given me and any favors anyone asked of me. Thankfully, Lady Mary made sure I was never overtaxed and Mrs. Hughes always stepped in if it was too much. Teaching Ethel the ropes of the house has been a welcome distraction as well; she knows by now to keep her selfishness in check, for she does have a good heart._

_My days became productive, and I made myself numb and hard to my reality, though not too hard to appreciate the continued kindness and support around me, who made sure I didn't make myself weak or sick from it all._

_In April, five years after you first came to Downton, two instances happened that I am pressed to tell you. The first concerns Mr. Moseley. He asked me if we could see a bit more of each other, now that you were gone and were not coming back. Though I was honestly flattered and took it as a compliment that he would take an interest in me (any female is always flattered by affections towards them, even if they don't return them, so don't let your temper flare), I knew I could never say yes to him. It wouldn't be fair to him, and it wouldn't be right for me if I'd said yes._

_The second was a conversation I had with Lady Mary shortly thereafter. I was preparing her for bed, and she was talking about accepting Sir Richard as a husband if he were to ask her. She asked me if I thought she should, and I told her that if she loved him more than anything or anyone of course she should. But the both of us knew that was a hollow statement: the person she loves more than anything or anyone is engaged to another woman. Then, she asked me if I loved you more than anything and anyone. I responded honestly: I did, I do, and I'll never love again the way I love you. _

_But then Lady Mary said something that made me so angry for a moment: she said that one day I would meet someone else whom I could love second-best and settle for him, since it was better than not having a life. I managed to swallow my anger before I responded politely but in the negative._

_It wasn't Lady Mary whom I was angry at. She was born and raised with the fact that she would be a wife; I was not. Before you came to Downton, I was quite content with my lot, not believing I would have another option in my life and not minding, either. But your arrival offered me another path, Mr. Bates, and I do not regret it for one moment, even if that path would prove to be impossible to walk._

_What angered me was how her words brought back to my mind so clearly words that you would often say to me: "You deserve someone young and handsome" – "You shouldn't attach yourself to a man who can't give you what you deserve" – "Forget me and be happy" – all of the times you tried to push me away from you resonated in my mind at Lady Mary's words._

_My anger has another reason, Mr. Bates, and it is why I was so cold with you today: I knew when you left that you were not telling me everything, and discovering your whereabouts only fueled my confusion. I'm glad you told me of that woman's threats to sell things to the papers, for I can easily believe that is the true reason you left with her. I have a very good guess as to what she is threatening to expose, especially if it involves me. So I can understand why you left like that. But you still should have told me and not tried to be gallant – it only hurt me more that I didn't get the entire truth I deserved._

_You say you know me, Mr. Bates, when you deliberately choose to not understand or accept an essential fact about me. It's what I told Lady Mary: I love you more than anything or anyone, and that I could never love again like I love you. I never expected to feel something like this in my life, and I know I could never feel something like this again for anybody else. This is why I've told you how it felt when you left – not to hurt you, but to make you understand once and for all this indisputable fact. No matter what you have done or may do, or how the world changes, that will never change. Heed this, bring it into your heart, set it as a cornerstone, and never doubt it again._

_I do not doubt that you love me too, Mr. Bates. Before deciding to write this letter and before I made the decision I did, I truly realized how selfless your love for me is. Before, I could only see from my own point of view, angry that you would make these decisions for me and selfish in wanting to have you any way I could. Seeing you today made me realize that you never gave me more than you could because of your love for me, because you are a good man, because of your integrity and dignity that you know I share. I meant what I said when I don't care what other people say, that their opinion was nothing to me…but now I realize that, if we were to live in sin, or I became your mistress, or we ran away together, our love would gradually sour into something neither of us want. You would grow to hate yourself for it, and I realize now I would do the same. I ask for it, I pay for it…Everyone else's opinion I could bear, but I couldn't bear what it did to the two of us. _

_So I apologize for asking that of you, and I love you all the more for treating me like the lady you believe me to be. It may make me impatient and frustrated in the short term at times, but I know in the long term I could never be more grateful._

_Now, this is my request to you, Mr. Bates, as this letter draws to a close. Seeing you again and knowing you are fighting for a life with me gives me more hope than I ever thought I could have again, but I cannot trust it yet. The events of November are still so painful to remember, when I went from being the happiest of women to the most heartbroken so quickly. I cannot let myself touch that happiness on hope alone anymore; I cannot go through that heartbreak again. So, until you are truly a free man, and we can be together for good and proper in every way, I must keep my distance. I will not come to see you again, and I will not seek you out. And I ask that you do not seek me out or come back to Downton until you can love me without guilt, without shame, and for all the world to see. What we have is, I believe, extraordinary, Mr. Bates, and I will not risk it being soured, or damaged, or torn apart again._

_However long it takes, I will be patient and bear anything. You must believe without a doubt that I will be loyal to you and only you. I've already shown you that for me, there is and never will be anybody else. You are not to worry about me while we are apart; I've also shown you I have a good life, a good job and a system of kindness, friendship and support that will help me through anything. I will keep my faith in you and live with the hope that a life with you is within reach, after what you've told me today._

_Please, John: heed all that I say. And always remember, that I am and always will be:_

_Your __Anna_

* * *

By the time John Bates had finished Anna's letter, he could no longer keep everything contained. The pages dropped to the floor as his hands went to his face, his body shaking with sobs he had kept bottled inside since he had left Anna eight months ago. His long overdue cries allowed all of his emotions to come out: heartbreak, anger, frustration, love stronger than himself. He needed this catharsis he had long denied himself, so he gave into the experience completely.

When he came to himself again, the sun had nearly set outside. After wiping his face and clearing his vision, his eyes fell on the pages of Anna's letter at his feet. Quickly, he picked them up again and re-read every word. When he had read the letter three times, John Bates felt his resolve, his humility, his determination, and the love for Anna that drove his every action strengthen like never before. He looked at the last two words of the letter, and brought them to his lips briefly.

_I will not let you down, my Anna, _he thought, as he got himself up and to the writing desk in his room. In the next minute, he had lit a candle and begun writing…


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

For the remainder of the day, Anna remained silent. Whenever someone addressed her, she responded with the shortest answers and the minimum amount of words she could while remaining polite. She felt Mrs. Hughes worried gaze on her all through dinner, so she tried to give the housekeeper a reassuring smile, but Anna could only hope that was what her attempt came off as.

Lady Mary, however, was not content to only silently observe Anna's uneasy silence, especially after knowing where she had been that afternoon. "You know you can talk to me, Anna," said Lady Mary, as she looked at Anna through her vanity mirror. "Your silence and fidgeting tell me that _something _happened on your journey this afternoon."

Anna met Mary's gaze in the mirror, pausing in her task of braiding. "I know I can talk to you, m'lady…I'm sorry if I seem…distracted or too quiet, I just…"

"It's all right, Anna," said Lady Mary. "After the shock you've had in the last week, I know plenty of people who wouldn't handle it nearly as well as you have."

"Thank you, m'lady," responded Anna, pulling herself together as she resumed her task. "I did see Mr. Bates today, and we had a talk."

"So, why is he working in a pub in Kirbymoorside, then?" asked Lady Mary. "It doesn't make any sense."

"That what I thought when you told me," said Anna as she tied off the braid. "Apparently, since he returned to London, he discovered that his wife had been unfaithful to him. He has proof of the affair, and he left the house and London to prove the marriage is broken. This has given Mr. Bates newfound confidence and means to get a divorce."

Lady Mary had learned all about Mr. Bates's circumstances and the kind of person Vera Bates was since November, and smiled through the mirror at Anna. "That's wonderful news, truly." Her smile faded as a new question came to her eyes. "But why a pub in Kirbymoorside? Why didn't he come back here, and why didn't he tell you any of this?"

Anna sighed. "He didn't want to come back or get in touch with me until it had all been settled…I don't believe he wants to do anything that could slow down or stop the process, and…I think he was afraid of raising my hopes before he was officially a free man…again…"

Lady Mary nodded, her usually sharp gaze gentle as she gazed at Anna. She had been the main witness to Anna's pain after Bates had left. Even if Anna never complained or spoke of it, seeing her at least three times a day for changing clothes and having hair done was plenty of time to watch someone. "Go on," she pressed gently.

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat and continued in a normal voice. "He came to Kirbymoorside because he wanted to be nearer me, he says. I really did see him in the village last week…he said he wanted a glimpse of me…"

"Well," said Lady Mary, turning around on her stool so they could face each other. "It's certainly understandable why he kept his distance and silence from you, but I still think he should have at least let you know in some way, have given you at least a _little _hope. Just the knowledge that he was fighting for you."

Anna couldn't lie. "I must say, m'lady, I feel the same."

Lady Mary's gaze went from annoyed to gentle again as the subject changed. "Is that why you look so troubled and restless, Anna? By all accounts, what you've learned today should make you happy."

"I _am _happy about it, m'lady, I really am," said Anna, who clasped her hands together to keep them from fidgeting. "It's just…After we talked, I wrote him a letter for him to read after I left. I asked that he keep his silence and his distance from me until he was a free man. I also found myself telling him in the letter how his leaving affected me in great detail, not to cause him pain but so that he could understand, once and for all, that my heart is his and could never be anybody else's…" The maid bit her lip and closed her eyes momentarily before speaking again. "You don't think I'm being cruel or unreasonable, do you, m'lady?"

Lady Mary gave her the warmest smile Anna had ever seen on her usually neutral face. "Those two adjectives are the last two I would ever pin with you, Anna."

Anna had never been one to take compliments easily, so she merely lowered her head for a moment in acknowledgement and then changed the subject, eager for a distraction. "Is there anything else I can do, m'lady? Any mending you need done before tomorrow or such like?"

"No, no, I'm all set for now," replied Lady Mary, giving Anna a keen gaze. "You can't work every hour God sends."

"I want to," replied Anna immediately. "I want to be tired out. I don't want time to myself." She shut her lips tightly, feeling emotions rise in her again. If there was one thing Anna hated, it was to become emotional in front of another person; that embarrassment was doubled if it were to a superior or employer, no matter how good of a friend they were.

But Lady Mary could see through her strong façade. "Do you miss him very much?" she asked softly. Of course, she knew the answer to this question, but she asked so that Anna could answer in words now instead of tears later.

Deep down, on a subconscious level, Anna recognized the kind gesture of a friend. Though she kept her eyes down and her jaw tight, she nodded haltingly before managing to speak with her voice under control – except for a small waver which couldn't be helped.

"I can't think of anything but him…It's as if I were mad…or ill…I suppose that's what love is…a kind of illness…when you've got it, there's just nothing else…" Anna listened to the words coming out of her, realizing they were as true now as they were when he had first left. It didn't matter that she now knew where he was, that he was fighting for their future together, that there was new hope. One of the bottom lines was this: they were apart – thanks to her, for God knows how long now – and missing him wasn't going to be any easier, because he still wasn't here.

When Anna felt sure she would not emote, she raised her eyes again to Lady Mary. The latter had turned her gaze away from Anna, and was now wearing the same sad, haunted and pained look on her face, however subtle. Her voice betrayed all of the emotions she was keeping in check: "I know."

Anna felt her own heart ease a little as she looked at Lady Mary, realizing that there was not one, but two women in this room in an unlucky situation in terms of love. By all accounts, Anna's lot had just been made a bit easier than Lady Mary's, for even though Mr. Bates was still legally married, he was fighting to be with Anna properly, whereas Mr. Crawley, while only engaged, did not seem to want to change his mind…

Knowing that it was not her place to begin a conversation about personal matters with Lady Mary, no matter how good of friends they were, she showed her support in a more subtle, but no less comforting way. "Mrs. Patmore is baking those blueberry muffins you're so fond of tonight. If you want your breakfast in bed tomorrow morning, I can sneak an extra one onto your tray for you."

Lady Mary turned her now slightly brighter eyes back to Anna and gave a smile that conveyed all the gratitude in the world. Her tone did the same. "Absolutely." A little pause. "That's all for tonight, thank you, Anna."

"Yes, m'lady," said Anna, bowing her head to her before walking past her to the door. But before she could open it, Lady Mary stopped her by speaking again.

"One more thing, Anna. You needn't worry about anybody else finding out about Mr. Bates's current whereabouts or situation. It's safe with me; I won't betray it."

Anna felt huge relief at this. Mr. Bates obviously didn't want anybody else at the house knowing of his whereabouts, and Anna didn't want them to know right now, for two reasons: one, he wouldn't be talked about, and two, he wouldn't receive any distractions from his monumental task at hands coming from Downton. "Thank you very much, m'lady."

Lady Mary shook her head dismissively, her gaze meaningful. "After the terrible secrets you've had to keep for me, Anna, this is a poor way of repaying that – but it's a start."

The two ladies – different in their statuses but both ladies in different, equally meaningful ways – smiled at each other; nothing more was needed to be said. Anna left the bedroom, closing the door behind her, and headed off to her own room.

Ethel was already asleep, which was a relief to Anna. While she loved distraction from her own thoughts, Ethel loved to talk before bed, sometimes going for so long that Anna would _wish _she could have some quiet time to herself – and _that _was saying something.

After changing into her nightgown and slipping beneath the covers, she let her thoughts wander; drowsiness was drawing in, so she knew that they wouldn't last long. It had been a long and eventful day, but well worth it. Now, she would have to wait, but she knew that she could do it. Thinking of her letter was the only thing that made her uneasy, and at first she was torn about whether or not she wanted him to send her a reply. Would he reply to her letter, or would he take her request to heart immediately and not? In the end, she hoped that he would, if only to give her peace of mind that the letter had had the desired effect on him, so she would know he understood.

Her last conscious thought before succumbing to sleep was her most precious memory, which she had gained that very day:

_I think I would love you however, whatever, whenever…_

Oh, yes…her journey today had been more than worth it.

* * *

**A/N: **_I took some of the dialogue, around the point where Anna talks about missing Mr. Bates, directly from a deleted scene which I found very beautiful for the two women. I love the friendship they have, much the same way as I love the relationship Robert and Bates have, where even when classes are different, those barriers are transcended ultimately by true friendship._

_Next chapter will bring John's reply – I hope I won't disappoint. Reviews help me more than you know!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

The calm after a storm always brings an understandable exhaustion to the people it touches. A true mood of well-deserved and relieved exhaustion had settled over the people downstairs in Downton Abbey. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes sat in his room, drinking a small, but well-deserved night-cap. Mrs. Patmore was in the kitchen, going over the menu plans for the following week, while Daisy was finishing the clean-up after a special feast. Most of the servants had gone upstairs to retire, and only two people occupied the servants' hall: Anna sat at the table, finishing the mending of one of Lady Edith's blouses, and William, still dressed in his uniform, playing a tune at the piano. The tune was soft, melancholy, sweet, and familiar in that way a distant childhood memory can be. The music drifted from the servants hall, to the kitchen, to the butler's room, soothing the atmosphere after the chaos and near panic dinner had brought.

William's fingers slowed and still, letting the tune fade away as it ended. Anna closed her eyes and smiled, glad the song had such a healing effect on her soul. Her body was tired enough, what with all of the running around she had done after finding Mr. Branson's note to Lady Sybil in her room. But it was her soul that benefitted the most, after spending the whole day wondering and worrying about Mr. Bates's reaction to her letter. _Will it anger him? Will it dishearten him? Will he try to push me away again? Will he try to push away my love again? _

But, for now, those worrying questions had been pushed to the back of her mind by the music and by William's presence. When William was finished, she put down her now-finished mending and softly clapped her hands. "Thank you for that, William," she said. "You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

"Thanks ever so, Anna," said William, standing up from the piano bench and glancing down the hall towards the kitchens. Anna smiled softly at the sight, knowing perfectly well who he was waiting for.

"I think she's going to be a few more minutes," said Anna as she stood up. "You know how Mrs. Patmore wants everything spotless and accounted for after such a meal."

William nodded, looking down in embarrassment. "You're right, yes," he murmured. Looking up and looking out through the open back door, through which a gentle summer breeze was coming, he said, "The sky is clear tonight. Want to look at the stars for a bit with me?"

Anna smiled warmly at him. "Of course I will," she said, her exhaustion forgotten at the thought of spending some moments with William before he left for war in the morning.

The two of them walked outside into the courtyard, and stood side by side as they turned their heads upward to the heavens. One could not have asked for a more beautiful summer night. William spoke in a hushed voice after a while, crossing his arms over his uniform. "It rained most of the time I was at my father's…I'm glad I can look at the stars one more time before I go…"

Anna looked sideways at William, only realizing now just how dear he had become to her, from his very first day at Downton nearly five years ago. The thought of him going to war, becoming a real soldier, seeing things this simple farm boy with a heart of gold should never see, made Anna very sad indeed. When he came back – Anna determinedly did not think _if _he came back – he certainly would not be that same boy he once was.

Not wanting to think these gloomy thoughts in these private moments with him, she said softly. "My granny used to play the piano, and that tune was one of her favorites. She died when I was still a girl, and I haven't heard it since. So I thank you for that, William."

"You're welcome," said William, smiling in embarrassment. "My mum played, and she taught me all I know…" William bit his lip and went silent, as he always did whenever his mother came up in a conversation. "You know, when I look at the stars, it's easier to believe that she is watching over me…It's easier to believe a lot of things when you look at the stars…"

"Mm," agreed Anna, looking up at the heavens. "My mum was a hard-working woman, but she knew well enough to point out the simple, beautiful things in life that make living a bit nicer. A sky full of stars was one of them."

"My mum showed them to me, too…" said William, his voice so quiet that Anna almost didn't hear him.

Anna turned her gaze to him again, feeling nothing but compassion for William. "I wish she could be here to watch them with you, William; I'm a rather poor substitute in comparison, I'm sure."

William immediately returned her gaze. "Oh, don't say that. I'm glad you're with me now, Anna. You've been so good to me ever since I first came here. I was so homesick when I did, and you were a great comfort to me."

Anna smiled softly. William had never told her this before. "All I knew was I remembered how frightened and homesick I had been when I first came. And little acts of kindness made all of the difference for me, in terms of how fast I learned and settled in. I'm glad I was able to help you."

"You did, you really did," said William, smiling. "It wasn't only your kindness that helped me, though. It was the fact that you came from a place almost the same as me, and were so well settled and respected in your job; it gave me the confidence that I would be all right, too."

The young maid felt very touched. No wonder she had felt such a kinship with William from the beginning. Both were Yorkshire born and bred, growing up on a farm and used to hard work from a very early age. Placing a gentle hand on his arm, she said, "You're a good man, William. A brave one, too, with a true heart. You must know how proud we all are here of you. And I know your father, and mother, are so proud of their boy."

William's eyes grew bright, and his chin trembled slightly. "I just…" he breathed, his voice trembling. "I just wish my mum was here to hold me one more time before I go…"

Anna felt tears well up in her own eyes. She squeezed William's arm, causing him to turn his tear-filled eyes to her. "Well, how about letting a housemaid from Yorkshire who loves you like a sister loves her brother clasp you to her heart before you go?"

The trembling of William's lips disappeared as he smiled. "Sister…you're quite right…and I'd be happy to."

They embraced without another word. Anna had to get on her tiptoes so he could rest his head on her shoulder. She hadn't realized just how tall he was, as tall as Mr. Bates if not taller. But this was far different from holding her John – but no less special. William held onto her tightly, silently letting all of his fear and sadness out; Anna held him tightly back, letting him know it was all right.

Eventually, they parted, and exchanged a smile. Neither had tears in their eyes anymore. She took his arm. "Come on inside. Daisy should be about finished by now."

William smiled and nodded, leading Anna back inside out of the fine summer night air.

* * *

The next morning, an air of quiet melancholy hung over the servants' hall, the cause being the departure of William early that morning. Mrs. Patmore barely yelled at the subdued Daisy, while Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were silent through their meal with grave faces. Even Ms. O'Brien remained silent, and Anna couldn't help but appreciate it. The only one at the table who acted as if nothing had happened, even a bit gleefully, was Thomas. Though this came as no surprise, considering how bullying William had been his favorite pastime, Anna was no less disgusted by it.

After Thomas and O'Brien had left the table to go outside for their first cigarette of the day (to everyone's relief), Mr. Carson left and came back with the mail. Silently he went around the table, handing out the letters. When he gave one to Anna, she was surprised: Anna rarely got any mail.

But as she looked at the envelope, her heart stopped in her chest momentarily. She knew that handwriting, and she didn't need to see the return address of Kirbymoorside to know what this was.

At that moment, however, the bell for Lady Mary rang, bringing Anna out of her shocked stupor. She put the letter into the pocket of her apron and left the hall without another word.

* * *

Of course, Lady Mary noticed the state Anna was in right away; though she did her job just as well, her silence and white face were red flags enough. "What's happened, Anna?" she said immediately.

Anna took a deep breath, having just finished Lady Mary's hair. "Forgive me, m'lady," she said. "We're all sad downstairs, what with William's departure this morning."

Lady Mary lowered her eyes sadly. "Yes, I feel the same," she said solemnly. "He's such a good lad. Helped me with my horse quite a few times when he didn't even have to."

Anna managed a very brief smile. "That's our William."

Looking at Anna through the mirror, Lady Mary's sharp eyes caught sight of the letter peeking out of Anna's apron pocket. "But that's not what's made you look like a ghost..." Her eyes widened as she came to the right conclusions. "Has Bates replied to your letter?"

Knowing it would be stupid to deny it, Anna nodded.

"Have you read it yet?"

Anna shook her head.

Lady Mary stood up and faced Anna. "Sybil will have woken up by now. I've been meaning to have a talk with her this morning, anyway. I'll delay her ringing for you for a while. In the meantime, you stay here and read it, then come along to Sybil in about twenty minutes, all right?"

Grateful for this rare chance of privacy, Anna nodded with a grateful look. After Lady Mary had left the bedroom, Anna took out the letter and sank onto the vanity stool. She tried to steady her breathing and her fingers as she opened the letter and pulled out the letter. She could tell already that it would be shorter than the letter she had written him. Whether that was a good or bad thing, Anna had yet to find out.

With baited breath, she began to read…

* * *

_Dearest Anna,_

_ I pray you will forgive me for this letter when you have asked for my silence, but I had to let you know that I have read your letter – three times, in fact, and I will read it many more times before we are reunited for good and proper._

_ Just as you cannot lie to me, Anna, I could never lie to you. Reading your account of these last eight months apart broke my heart with each word, but I don't wish you hadn't told me. I deserved to know the pain I have put you through, and God knows I deserve much worse than the coldness you showed me today. My only solace was learning of the kindness and support you have had from everybody, especially Mrs. Hughes and Lady Mary. Words could never express the gratitude I feel to them for being there for you._

_ I felt the same as you the day I left; my heart was ripped from my chest as the carriage moved away, and I could feel your eyes on me from a window. At that moment – as I said before, I cannot lie to you – feeling both your eyes and Vera's eyes on me, yours of hurt and betrayal, hers of sadistic satisfaction…I wanted nothing more than for it all to be over. Forgive me for that selfishness, Anna, but I felt truly trapped and could see no hope anymore. It wasn't until I found my proof of Vera's unfaithfulness in February that I saw hope again, and the thought of you made it grow into a roaring fire that I have not let be extinguished._

_ I will not elaborate greatly on the haze of misery I lived in when I was in London. I avoided Vera at every opportunity: sleeping separately, eating separately, never being in the same room with her if I could help it. I nearly fell back into drinking again, especially around the holidays, just to dull the pain. I was haunted by the memory of when last I saw you: crying and pleading with me in the cold courtyard, and the sound of your crying as I walked away, my limp making sure I heard you for a good long while. And who ever said God didn't know how to punish a man? And I deserved every moment of it. I'm glad this is in letter form now, so I cannot hear you object to it if you chose to do so._

_ My greatest regret is that I didn't tell you all of my reasons for leaving you when I left. Vera's threat certainly was the significant reason. How could I just sit back and watch her ruin your name, your reputation, your future, not just because you are the woman I love but because what you did you did out of loyalty and not deception. You can say all you like about not giving a damn about these things, Anna, but I remember when you went completely above and beyond to clear my name. How could I not try to do the same for you?_

_ Thank you for understanding my reasons, for the times I tried to push you away, and the ways I still push you away today. You would understand completely if you knew, truly knew, the man I had been before I came to Downton: a wounded man in every sense from that terrible war, a man who had married for all of the wrong reasons and blamed his wife with sharp words and abandonment, a drunk who tried to drown out his mind and memories in the bottle because he couldn't face the monster his mistakes and experiences had made him. Prison was the most harsh awakening I could experience, and I emerged from it determined to be a new man, a better man, so I could at least tolerate myself day by day. When I came to Downton, all I wanted was to work and live quietly until death, not causing anybody harm or trouble._

_ The last thing I expected was you. I thought that love, in any form, was over for me, that it was not a possibility – and after what I had gone through, I accepted that. Then you changed everything, made me question everything, and made me see everything in a new light. Whenever I told you that you deserved better, what I was really saying was you did not deserve someone like me. All I could see was my past, my mistakes, my horrors, and the belief that everything I touched turned to rot (look at the heart of my so-called wife – she is not the way she is because of herself only)._

_ But you are the most stubborn creature on this planet, are you not? And I couldn't love you more for that. And so, when I came to terms with our feelings, I swore to myself that I would not ruin what we shared, this most precious gift I never expected and still find hard to believe I deserve. That is why I would not take you as anything less than what you are: my partner, my equal, my life, my love, my true and destined wife. _

_ For so long, it is you who have had to keep the faith for the both of us, but no more. Our future is in sight, Anna, and I know it won't be long now. I will keep at this to be free of her, and be with the only woman I could ever truly call my wife. I will keep to your request not to come to you, and not to contact you, for I know it is the right thing for the both of us right now (though I know it will be very hard). I will carry your letter with me always, and read it frequently to remind myself to learn from my past mistakes, work as hard as I can in the present, and not deny ourselves the chance to face the future together._

_ Do not give up on me, my love, for I will not give up on us anymore. Why? Because I am simply and eternally:_

_ Your John_

* * *

It was a good thing that, once she was done reading the letter, Anna folded it up and held it to her heart; otherwise, her flowing tears would have blotted the ink. But these were not tears of sadness or despair; these tears of joy flowed as she laughed through her sobs. When she managed to calm down, she kissed the precious letter before putting it back securely in her pocket.

When she exited Lady Mary's room when she was told to, her face was flushed and her eyes were a bit red, but the smile and expression on her face were the definition of radiant hope.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

As Anna walked into the village on her next afternoon off, she couldn't deny the nervous butterflies flittering in her chest and stomach. Two weeks had passed since she had seen Mr. Bates again, and not an hour went by when she did not play over that meeting in her mind. Every night, before going to sleep, she would read the letter he had sent her.

The housemaid did not know what to expect on her next afternoon off. As always, she would go into the village, running errands for herself and for anybody else in the house who asked her. Nothing out of the ordinary in that. What made her nervous was this question: _Would he be there? _After all, he had watched her in the village before, perhaps more than once, without trying to speak to her. But she had told him not to try and contact her until he was officially a free man, so surely now he would do all he could to keep himself away from her. That would include coming to the village when he knew she would be there.

_But what if he still comes? _she thought. _After all, I only told him not to contact me. What if he just comes to get a glimpse of me, as he did before, and not try to talk to me? I never told him he couldn't do that. And he has just as much right to come to the village as I do._

Anna thought of this possibility, and tried to decide how she would feel if she saw him in the village today. She knew that, if indeed Mr. Bates came to the village, he wouldn't approach her or try to speak to her. How did _that _make her feel? Each time she tried to find an answer, it eluded her, and as Anna walked through the village, she pushed these questions from her mind.

But Anna could not stop her eyes from roaming everywhere in search of him. She just couldn't help it. She understood completely his wish to catch a glimpse of her, for she wished the same, despite the resolutions she had made for the both of them. She wouldn't talk to him or approach him if she saw him, just…what? Nod her head? Smile? Wave? Would she be able to do any of those things and hold her resolve to keep her distance?

However, Anna needn't have worried about what she would have done had she seen him in the village that day, because she didn't. Mr. Bates was nowhere to be seen, and Anna could sense that he wasn't just hiding from her roaming line of sight. No, he was not in the village. He was staying true to her request not to contact her.

As Anna walked out of the village that afternoon, she couldn't decide if she felt more relieved or more disappointed.

* * *

Anna came back inside by way of the servants' entrance, resolutely leaving these questions about Mr. Bates out in the summer air. Since she was back earlier than usual for her half-day, she intended to spend the rest of her day being productive in some way.

As she walked down the hallway to the servants' hall, Mrs. Hughes came out of her parlor and spotted her. "Oh, Anna, thank goodness you're back. I know it's your afternoon off, but I need your help." The housekeeper looked a perfect cross between flustered and frustrated, leaving barely any room for relief at the sight of Anna.

The housemaid raised her eyebrows in worry and inquiry. "What's happened, Mrs. Hughes?"

"It's Miss O'Brien," said the housekeeper, a sour look coming to her face as she said the name. "She's come down with some kind of flu, complete with a fever and chills. I've sent her to bed with orders to stay there until she's back to normal." She paused. "Well, by that I mean, as she was before."

Anna inhaled through her teeth to stop herself from chuckling. "Who else could come down with the flu in the middle of summer, I wonder?"

Mrs. Hughes shook her head, biting back a chuckle herself before getting back to the business at hand. "Well, back to the business at hand. I can take care of her ladyship this evening while you look after the girls. However, there is another task that needs to be done: the gown her ladyship wishes to wear to dinner tonight – the hem is coming undone, and I've no time to take care of it before supper. Would you –"

"Of course, Mrs. Hughes," said Anna immediately.

"I know it's your afternoon off, but I can't trust any of the other housemaids with one of her ladyship's gowns."

"It's no trouble, honestly. I had planned on being productive this afternoon, anyway."

Mrs. Hughes gave a grateful and relieved smile. "Thank you, Anna. The gown is in my sitting-room, so just leave your bundles from town in there."

Anna nodded and walked past Mrs. Hughes to that room. Mrs. Hughes smiled to herself once Anna was gone. She couldn't explain it, but there had been a subtle change in the head housemaid since her last afternoon off. She smiled more easily and more often, was not as quiet with everyone else, and Mrs. Hughes did not see the sad look of heartbreak on her face when Anna lost herself in thought nearly so often anymore. The housekeeper did not care to know the reason why just yet, and only hoped that it would last and improve.

* * *

In the course of Anna's workday, there was a bit of a lull between getting the girls ready for dinner and then preparing them for bed. In the space between those two tasks, Anna would have her own dinner with the other servants, and do any mending for the girls that needed to be done by the morning. However, this evening, Anna had no mending for the girls that needed to be done by morning, and there was only so much she could do in terms of helping with dinner service – or rather, only so much that Mr. Carson would allow any maid to do. Even with the shortage of male staff – and Thomas refusing to do any servants' work again – Carson was determined that things should not run so badly as to need maids serving dinner.

As Anna finished her dinner, her eyes caught Mrs. Hughes walking past the servants' hall. She carried a vase of flowers she intended to place in the main drawing room after the family had retired to bed. The sight of those flowers brought a powerful memory into Anna's mind…

_Who on Earth would be knocking at that door? Everybody else downstairs would be down at the fair – except for Mr. Carson, and he would rather pass out than try to cross the gender boundary in the servants' quarters. She wrapped a shawl around herself as she left her room and entered the hallway._

_ Then she heard a voice from the other side of the door. "Anna?"_

_ She could hardly believe her ears; she knew that voice, and the silhouette in the doorframe was familiar as well. "Mr. Bates?" she said in surprise._

_ "Can you open the door?" _

_ Anna immediately felt herself flush a bit at the thought. "I daren't," she said, even more shocked that he requested this. "No one can open that door, except Mrs. Hughes." And the thought of him seeing her in such a state, in only her nightclothes, as well as with her red nose and sickly face, was a mortifying thought._

_ "Just for a moment," he pleaded softly. "I've brought you something."_

_ Anna now stood at the door, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw, by the shadowy silhouette, he was indeed carrying something in his hands. But what it was…Anna was afraid to believe to be true._

_ But she would be cruel indeed to turn him away if he had something for her. And everyone else was at the fair, including Mrs. Hughes, so…perhaps just this once. _

_ Wishing more than anything that she did not look as sick as she felt, and feeling nervous, Anna lifted the large key from its hook by the door, placed it in the lock, and turned it until she heard the click. She opened the door and her heart overflowed with emotion at the sight before her…_

Anna shook her head firmly, not letting herself remember anymore. If she lost herself to memories like that in front of others, they would only become concerned when the sadness of missing him followed the joy of remembering their tender moments crossed her expressive face.

However, that memory brought to Anna's mind the fact that now, there was indeed someone in the women's hallway sick in bed. Anna recalled how frustrating it had been for her to be sick, alone in her room for three days, not allowed to work and nearly screaming from boredom and irritation. Though she and Miss O'Brien had never been friends, Anna didn't like the thought of anybody going through what she did at the hands of sickness. She also knew that Mrs. Patmore would be far too busy to remember that Miss O'Brien hadn't had any supper at all, and everybody else would either not remember or not care enough to bring her up something. Even Thomas wouldn't bother, unless he were getting something in return and the task required no effort whatsoever.

Sighing, Anna realized that she was Miss O'Brien's only hope. True, they were often at odds, but Anna was, fundamentally, a good person. So, when her supper was finished, she made her way to the kitchen.

_But I draw the line at flowers, _she thought.

* * *

As Miss O'Brien tried to make herself sleep, to make herself unconscious to her fever and empty stomach, there was a knock on her door. Her eyes flew open in surprise – who in this house would call on her, sick or not?

"Yes?" she called out, or tried to call out, but the word was only a hoarse, tired whisper as she sat herself up.

The door opened, and there stood Anna, holding a tray in her hands. She looked on Miss O'Brien, not with sharp suspicion or annoyance, but with compassionate empathy. "I brought something up for you," she said simply as she walked into the room. She stopped at O'Brien's bed and held out the tray for her to take.

Safe to say, O'Brien was completely shocked. She hadn't expected anybody to bring her up any supper. If they didn't remember, they wouldn't care enough to make a gesture for her. She couldn't really blame them, either, considering how she behaved downstairs. They were probably all relieved, even happy, that she was stuck upstairs and suffering. And, by all accounts, so should Anna. They had never been close, and considering the way that she had treated Bates when he had been at the house, O'Brien was even more surprised that it was Anna making this gesture.

But Anna stood calmly in O'Brien's shocked gaze, patiently waiting for her to take the tray, which she held out slightly towards the older woman. O'Brien looked to see what was on the tray: covered dishes, a glass of cold water with a small pitcher, and a bowl of ice with a rag beside it.

Without saying a word, O'Brien took the tray from Anna, setting it on her lap.

"Mrs. Hughes said you already have medicine," said Anna. "Do you need anymore?"

Miss O'Brien shook her head as she lifted the cover off of one of the dishes. "I don't think Mrs. Patmore's ever made this before…" she said, more to herself than to Anna, as she looked at the chicken and vegetable stew.

"She didn't; I did."

Miss O'Brien raised her head again, looking even more surprised. The expression on Anna's face reflected no boasting or bragging, and she spoke in a matter-of-fact way. "It's a dish my mum made for my brothers and I when we got sick, and it always helped."

With that, Anna turned and headed for the door. As she opened it, O'Brien couldn't hold back the question any longer. "Why?" And she didn't just mean the stew.

Anna recognized that. Her face remained calm as she shrugged, replying again in that calm, matter-of-fact way. "Just treating someone how I would like to be treated when I'm sick. I hope you get better soon, Miss O'Brien."

With that, and a small smile of kindness, Anna left the room and softly shut the door. O'Brien would have sat there in complete shock for the rest of the night had not the enticing aroma of the stew call right to her empty stomach. It was, indeed, delicious, and she knew it would do wonders for her. She then used the ice and rag to cool her head, which soon helped her fall into deep, healing sleep.

But the entire time she remained awake, O'Brien thought of Anna. The young woman had not only gone out of her way to help her, but had not waited for or expected any kind of thanks. O'Brien had never experienced an act of selfless kindness before. Not even Thomas would ever do this for her…

* * *

July turned to August, and the weather remained as lovely as ever. On her first afternoon off of the month, Anna went to the village, her mind preoccupied with the many errands people had asked her to run which she had happily accepted. She wanted to spend as much time active and outside in the beautiful August weather as she could.

But as Anna approached a tree in the quiet square, her steps slowed until she stopped beside it. No words could accurately describe the sensation that she felt, and had someone asked her she would have said it was nothing, for the answer would convince the other person she had gone a little mad. But in the depths of her heart, she knew that this was no imaginary thing.

Mr. Bates was nearby, and he was watching her.

While her mind held resolute to the decision to keep her distance from him – and knowing he wouldn't break his promise to her – Anna felt her heart take over the actions of her hands. Quietly, deliberately, Anna reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out her handkerchief, and quickly placed it in the knothole of the tree before walking quickly away. It wasn't until she had cleared the square that she felt he could no longer see her.

As she did her many errands, making sure she did not rush, her heart pounded and her stomach fluttered. Doubts began to seize her. What if she had desperately imagined it? Was this only the feeling of missing him manifested in a mad way? She hadn't felt him watching her before finding him again, so why should it change now?

_Love really _is _an illness, isn't it?_

But when she came back to the square and slowly walked back towards the tree, she felt that sensation again. That he was watching her. In no way was it threatening or frightening; instead it filled her with a warmth and security she never felt in his absence. Anna deliberately kept her gaze low, for she knew if she caught a glimpse of him, her resolve might break.

When she came to the tree – incidentally, the same tree she had first seen him standing by when she'd caught a glimpse of him the previous month – she stopped and peaked with trepidation into the knothole. She saw a white cloth, and her heart sank. _I really am imagining all of this, aren't I? No cold could be worse than this. _Blinking back tears, Anna reached into the knothole for her handkerchief. But when she pulled it out, Anna gasped.

This wasn't her handkerchief, or any lady's handkerchief. This handkerchief was made for a man, and had the initials _J.B. _stitched into a corner. Lifting it to her face, Anna could smell his scent, and tears filled her eyes again. But these were tears of happiness and relief.

Now she had an answer to the question she had posed to herself her first afternoon off since finding him again. No, she felt no anger towards him for coming to the village, for she knew he wouldn't ignore her request. His presence was merely telling her, reminding her like his letter did, that he wasn't giving up and that he was fighting for their future. He would not disappear from her life again, and this is what he was telling her.

Anna kissed the cloth before putting it securely in her pocket, grinning giddily as she practically skipped through the square and out of the village.

* * *

Nearby, in the shadow of another large tree, John had watched this with a grin. His eyes remained on her until she disappeared from view, and he felt relieved that she understood his purpose in coming here. He wouldn't come every time she had an afternoon off, for fear of their resolves breaking, but he would come often enough to strengthen them. That knothole had been an unexpected treasure, and he looked forward to future possibilities.

His heart full, John lifted Anna's handkerchief, which smelt so sweetly of her, to his face. He kissed it before walking towards the bus stop, not letting go of the cloth or his hope.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

The summer months at Downton Abbey were always a time to be treasured for its weather. Summer brought more clear skies, warm breezes and bright sunlight than the Yorkshire manor got to see in the rest of the year. The people upstairs always took advantage of this time by many walks around the grounds, and taking tea and company outside. The soldiers staying there now also took advantage of the lovely weather by sitting and lounging outside in the afternoons of nice days. This did wonders for both their healing bodies and broken spirits.

For the people downstairs, it was more difficult to enjoy the lovely weather. They did not have the leisure to take long walks, except when they had that rare time off to do so. Even when they were serving the family or the soldiers outside, they were working and therefore couldn't really savor the weather. So, the downstairs staff had come to invent certain methods to be able to take advantage of the lovely weather, such as leaving the servants' hall door open throughout the day.

This summer, a new tradition was started by Mr. Lang, the man who had replaced Mr. Bates as valet to Lord Grantham. When the summer months started, he had fashioned a kind of table and seat for himself in the servants' courtyard. There, throughout the summer, he did his work on nice days.

One afternoon in late August, both Mr. Lang and Anna were seated at the table in the courtyard. He was polishing up his Lordship's formal uniform for the evening, and she was trying to get a tiny, particularly stubborn stain out of one of Lady Sybil's blouses.

"Blood?"

Anna looked up from her work, surprised that Mr. Lang was addressing her, for he never really had before. He didn't dislike her or hate her; he just kept himself to himself. Still surprised, she said, "Pardon me?"

Mr. Lang put down his needle and pointed to the garment in Anna's hands. "That a blood stain?"

Anna looked down at it briefly and nodded. "I'm afraid Lady Sybil got a bit of a bloody nose this morning. Not the kind of stain I am used to, else I would have taken care of this by now."

"Cold water," said Mr. Lang. "Give it a good long soak in that, and if anything remains, ammonia should get the rest of it out."

Anna smiled. "Thank you, I'll do that," said Anna graciously.

"Don't thank me," said Mr. Lang modestly, lowering his eyes to his work once more. "No one should have need of such knowledge."

Anna nodded, and thought it best not to continue on with that topic of conversation. Wanting to show her gratitude for his helpful tip, she said, "This is a wonderful idea, Mr. Lang, of working outside. I'm ashamed no one else thought it up before."

"I like being out in the fresh air when I can," said Mr. Lang, his usually tight voice a little more relaxed. "Should be experienced whenever possible, I say."

"Amen," Anna concurred with a nod. She fell into silence again, moving aside the blouse to take care of when she went back inside and beginning to reattach a button for Lady Mary.

She was once again surprised to be addressed again. "You hear from that lad lately? William?"

Anna looked up again and nodded. "Yes. I had a letter from him just last week. He's been made servant to Mr. Crawley, which gives us who know him a bit of relief. At least we know he'll be kept an eye on."

"Doubt that'll make much of a difference," said Mr. Lang, more to himself than to Anna. "On the front lines, it doesn't matter who you know or what you're class – everyone's got an equal chance to be…" He let his voice drift as his gaze drifted back to Anna, and he remembered that she could hear him.

Anna had set her jaw at his words, remembering a careless comment he had made last month that upset Mrs. Patmore. Remembering how Mrs. Hughes had set him straight with a sharp retort, Anna said quietly but firmly, "That may be true, but I prefer the way of hope to the way of despair; at least with hope there is a chance, rather than none at all."

She and Mr. Lang just stared at each other for a moment, Anna refusing to back down and Mr. Lang processing the rebuttal. Finally, Mr. Lang gave a small sigh and lowered his gaze. He began his work again as he said, "I truly don't mean to hurt anybody with my words. I only wish they could understand that there is nothing glorious, virtuous, or wonderful about war, for you'll find nothing but horrors…"

His voice drifted, hands stilled and his gaze became glazed over. Anna watched this man with concern and contemplation. Her memory drifted back five years, to one of Mr. Bates's first evenings in the house…

* * *

_"Does anyone else keep dreaming about the _Titanic_?" _

_ Daisy's question broke through the rare moment of peace in the servants' hall. Gwen, who had been laying the table for the servants' dinner, rolled her eyes and huffed, "Not again. Give it a rest."_

_ "I agree," said Anna, looking up from her sewing at the little scullery maid. "It's time to let it go."_

_ But Daisy would not be swayed until she'd had her say. "But all them people, freezing to death in the midnight, icy water."_

_ A collective shudder passed through all of the servants at those words. The tragedy was still fresh, and hearing it put so bluntly did not help at all. Even Miss O'Brien was a bit shaken. "Oh, you sound like a penny dreadful."_

_ Gwen, eager to change the topic from that tragedy, asked, "I expect you saw worse things in South Africa, eh, Mr. Bates?" as she stood between him and Anna, setting cups before each. _

_ Mr. Bates, who had been reading a book, looked up to answer the question with some thought. "Not worse…but pretty bad."_

_ Anna gave Gwen a grateful look before she moved to the other side of the table. Though she hadn't known him long, she already knew she liked him as a person, especially because he did not wish for pity for his injury and rather do his best work in spite of it. With the people upstairs and downstairs doubting his abilities – and Thomas and O'Brien wanting to prepare him like a sacrifice to the gods – Anna appreciated any welcoming or inclusive gesture towards him. Anything to make him and his comfortable, friendly presence stay longer was fine by her._

_ But Anna had no more than a moment to contemplate this fact, as Daisy once again asked a blunt, naïve question that made everyone want to huff and roll their eyes. Even the fact that it was addressed at Mr. Bates didn't help: "Did you enjoy the war?"_

_ Anna had to bite her lip a bit at such an insensitive question. _He has a permanent war wound that makes people forever doubt him, and she asks if he enjoyed it?

_But Mr. Bates earned even more of her respect by his reply to Daisy, as if it had been any ordinary question: "I don't think anyone enjoys war. But there are good memories, too." _

_Anna turned her gaze to Bates, and fancied she saw some distant pain or sorrow flash in his eyes. But his answer had been honest, so she believed him. She gave him a small smile as she commented, "I'm sure there are."_

_ Mr. Bates looked at her, saw her smile, and gave her the ghost of one in reply as his eyes smiled too, before returning to his book._

* * *

…Anna couldn't help but smile at the memory. Even in those early days, she had begun to love him. She wondered when he had begun to love her…Anna vowed to ask him just that when they were finally together for good and proper.

But when she looked back at Mr. Lang, the smile disappeared and her concerns turned back to him. He now sat rigid as a board, his face set hard and his eyes glassy. The only way one could describe his expression was haunted, truly haunted. Anna couldn't imagine what he had gone through out there. When the war had broken out, Mr. Bates would talk about his own war experiences with her late nights in the servants' hall or the courtyard. At those times, he would get a sad and haunted expression in his eyes, but nothing as strong or terrifying as what was on Mr. Lang's face.

It seemed that his war wounds were less visible but much deeper than those of Mr. Bates.

"Mr. Lang?" she said softly. He did not move. "Mr. Lang," she said more firmly and clearly. His entire body gave a jerk, and his breathing became a bit heavier. His eyes found hers, and Anna was struck by the fear of a child that passed over his eyes in a split second. "Forgive me," he said softly, before bending his head over his work again and working with a new vigor.

"There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Lang," said Anna simply. "I'm in no position to judge anybody about anything, but rather try to understand and help any way I can."

Mr. Lang looked at her and briefly nodded before returning to his work. But there had been relief and gratitude in his brief gaze in response to her gentle understanding.

Footsteps approached them, and Anna looked up to see Miss O'Brien come to the table and silently sit down beside Mr. Lang. Anna briefly wondered how long she had been watching them in the doorway, for O'Brien had a habit of doing that. Thankfully she had rarely done that when she and Mr. Bates had snatched precious moments together, but the other servants certainly complained about it enough.

The three of them worked in comfortable silence on each of their work, which they had been doing all summer. Words were rarely spoken but work was always done. And anyway, the silences were comfortable ones for all three of them. But this day, it wasn't long before Mr. Lang had finished and rose. "I'll just go lay this out for his Lordship, then."

As he passed Anna, he paused and turned back to her. "Tell the lad – William – that I hope he pulls through it…as whole as he can manage."

Mulling over his words but grateful for them, Anna slowly nodded her head and said, "Thank you, I will."

Mr. Lang nodded to both of them and then headed inside. Anna returned to her work, even though she felt O'Brien's gaze on her. She sensed she would soon address her, so she bit back a sigh of resignation and tried to mentally prepare herself for any remark that came her way. When it came, it took Anna completely off-guard.

"You're a good girl, Anna."

Anna's head shot up at that, and didn't bother trying to keep the surprise off her face as she looked at the lady's maid. O'Brien's face was neutral, as usual, but her eyes were softer than Anna had ever seen them. She felt momentarily struck dumb, and all she could say in reply was, "…Miss O'Brien?"

O'Brien continued as if Anna hadn't said anything, looking at Anna with a thoughtful respect. "And you're not just good, but you've got a strong head on your shoulders. You don't suffer fools gladly. I've always respected that."

Now Anna was _completely _thrown for a loop. _Am I going mad? _she thought. _Will Thomas now come out and give me a kiss?_ She took a deep breath and set down her work, keeping her gaze on her co-worker. "If I may be blunt, Miss O'Brien…what is this? You've never had a good word to say about anybody."

"Your kindness to Mr. Lang," replied Miss O'Brien. She did not look embarrassed or begrudging, but matter-of-fact and honest. "That's what's brought it on. You would be the last person in this house to show him kindness."

This confused Anna. "Why in the world would I be unkind to him?" The head housemaid couldn't help but sound a big indignant.

"Because he took over Mr. Bates's job," answered Miss O'Brien, who seemed a bit surprised that she had to state that out loud.

"Oh," said Anna, now understanding, but she still felt a bit indignant, almost insulted. "That's no reason to be unkind to Mr. Lang. He didn't force or weasel into the job and make Mr. Bates leave…" _No, a cold-hearted witch made him leave. _"And what good would being unkind or nasty to him do, especially when he doesn't deserve it? Maybe other people would, but…"

Anna stopped herself from continuing, for she couldn't deny that, when she meant other people, she meant Thomas and O'Brien.

But O'Brien understood what Anna was trying not to say, and addressed Anna as if she had. "You're right – I would have, had I been in your shoes. At least, if it had happened before the war, I would have…" O'Brien's face became contemplative, even a bit ashamed.

Anna nodded slowly, knowing that what O'Brien said was true and acknowledging something more subtle in what O'Brien was saying. Anna voiced it aloud to her: "You _have _changed since the war started…"

For a moment, O'Brien's eyes were filled with a great, haunting regret which Anna could not comprehend or understand. Then O'Brien shook her head slightly and bent back down over a dress of her Ladyship. "Well, war changes everything, even me."

"Well, if you don't mind my saying…for you, it's been for the better," said Anna, and she meant it genuinely.

O'Brien looked back at Anna, and though the young woman was convinced it was only her imagination, something akin to vulnerability flashed for a split second in the lady's maid's eyes. "Truly?"

"Truly," Anna replied without hesitation. "I'm not saying you've changed completely, Miss O'Brien, but you no longer go out of your way to insult or hurt anybody with no cause whatsoever. In times like this…it's very much appreciated." Anna didn't voice it aloud, but she also thought of her own personal gratitude. She had written the truth in her letter when she said that O'Brien never spoke to her – either in exultation or gloating or insult – about Mr. Bates after he left.

But O'Brien seemed to sense what Anna didn't say, and nodded. "I never did thank you for that tray, Anna."

Anna nodded in acknowledgement of the late but welcome gratitude. A look of true understanding passed between them before both silently returned to their work.

Neither needed to say aloud that a friendship had just been started, but both were glad that it had.

* * *

Lady Mary walked along the vast bookshelves in the grand library, browsing the selections and trying to recall which titles had already been given. She had never been much of a bookworm, but was glad Anna was because it made the matter of gifts much easier for Lady Mary.

The door opened, and Lady Mary turned her head to see her father come into the room, still dressed in his dinner things as was she. "Did you want to speak to me?" he asked.

"Oh, no, Papa," replied Lady Mary. "I'm just browsing to see which I will give to Anna. Her birthday is next week, and I always give her a book."

"Lovely," commented Lord Grantham. "Any luck so far?"

Lady Mary shrugged. "I keep thinking that I ought to give Anna something more, after the tough time she's had, and since it will be her first birthday without Mr. Bates here…"

"Ah, Bates…" said Lord Grantham, his voice and expression instantly becoming somber. He stopped at his writing desk and aimlessly tapped at it.

Lady Mary turned to her father with new concern. "Did you and Bates part on bad terms, Papa?"

Lord Grantham kept his gaze on the writing desk and nodded. "He left so quickly, and he wouldn't tell me his reasons why. I lost my temper and my last words to him were cruel. After he left, Carson informed me that Bates had been blackmailed to leaving by his wife?"

"Blackmailed?" inquired Lady Mary, approaching her father. She had never asked Anna specifically about Bates's cause to leave, fearing it would cause Anna even more pain than she was going through. She knew it had everything to do with Bates's wife coming back, but until now she had assumed that Bates had left because he was a married man and wanted to preserve Anna's honor and chance for another life. "What do you mean?"

Lord Grantham sighed and looked at his daughter. "Apparently, if Bates did not leave with her immediately, Mrs. Bates was going to – in Carson's own words – 'engulf this house in scandal.'"

Now Lady Mary felt an ice cold fear wrap around her heart, but she did not let that show on her neutral, mildly inquisitive face. "Oh? What did he mean by that?"

Lord Grantham shrugged his shoulders and sat down at his writing desk, facing away from his daughter. "Carson wouldn't elaborate, and I doubt it truly matters…What does matter is that Bates sacrificed himself to protect the honor of Downton, and I repaid him with cruelty he did not deserve…"

While Lord Grantham began writing letters wrapped in his own shame, Lady Mary stood some feet behind him with wide, horror-filled eyes now that her father could not see her.

* * *

**A/N: **_The italicized section comes from the first episode of Downton's first season._

_Please review, they mean so much to me!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

The early afternoon of his day off found John Bates in his flat above the bakery in Kirbymoorside, sitting at his writing desk. The open window nearby revealed the beauty of the mid-September day; the air remained warm in the bright sunlight, and only a thin shade of gold creeping into the leaves outside was the only indicator of the autumn coming. But John's attention was not focused on the window or the world outside. He stayed focused on the task at hand. Very carefully, he was preparing his birthday gift to Anna.

During his time at Downton, they had always given each other a gift for birthdays and on Christmas; never anything extravagant or beyond their means, but always thoughtful gifts that communicated to each other how much each meant to the other. After he had left, Christmas had followed a mere month later, and John had tortured himself about it. Should he send her a gift? Would she accept any kind of gift? Would it not be wiser to be silent? He had told her – fruitlessly, though he wouldn't admit it to himself at first – to forget him, and wouldn't sending a gift to her completely destroy that purpose? When the holiday had come and he received no gift from Anna, he hated himself for the disappointment he felt and the hypocrisy that showed. He felt the same in March, when his birthday had come and nothing came. Choosing the selfless route didn't mean you never longed to be selfish again.

But when Anna had found him, everything was changing. True, she had asked for both to keep their distance from each other, but John knew from the start that he needed to acknowledge her birthday. A gift would serve the same purpose that going to the village did: to reassure her that he was continuing to work for them, that he had not given up on them, and he would never try to cut himself from her life again.

So the decision of giving Anna a gift had never been the problem. The problem had been the gift itself and what it should be. John knew instinctively that this gift had to be very special, different than the small gifts he had given in the past. Something to show how strong his faith in their future was, and to help hers become even stronger. That meant that any gift he gave couldn't be bought with money or come from another's hands. This gift must be personal, valuable and significant to him, from him.

John had few possessions that he cherished like that, and when reviewing his options, he realized that he had only two. One he had always meant to give to Anna, ever since he had considered the possibility of a future with her, but he wanted to wait to give her that possession, possibly Christmas or when he was reunited with her for good and proper.

This left the second option. His first reaction to giving this to her had been great hesitancy and fear. But this only lasted for an instant, as he remembered that he was not just giving this to anybody: he would be giving this to Anna, the woman he loved more than life itself, who understood him completely, and who would care for this possession with the greatest care and protection.

So, in the end, the decision had been surprisingly easy. _If only I'd thought of it sooner than this morning, _John thought as he sealed the letter he would be delivering with the parcel wrapped in brown paper and simple string. _Then she could receive this today rather than tomorrow. _

Finished, John slipped the letter between the brown paper wrapping and simple string of the parcel, and got up from the writing desk with it held securely to his chest. After putting on his jacket and hat, John made his way to his door with his cane. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Mrs. Alden, owner of the bakery and his landlady, making her way up the stairs towards his flat.

"Oh, Mr. Bates!" she said when she saw him and stopped on the stairs. She had a look of excitement on her face. "I was just making my way up to tell you: There's a young lady downstairs asking for you."

"What?" was all John could say in the shock of this news.

Mrs. Alden nodded her head and turned to head back down the stairs. "Best not keep her waiting," she said over her shoulder before disappearing.

For a moment, John just stood still on the landing in shock. Then, he went down the stairs as fast as he could. A young lady waiting for him? That could only mean one person. John held the parcel securely to his chest, the thought of seeing Anna properly making his heart pound. And on her birthday! He could wish her a happy one in person! Or was Anna here for a different reason entirely? Did she come bearing bad news from Downton? Or worse, bad news from herself? Racing down the stairs as fast as his leg would allow him, in his surprise and anticipation of seeing her again, John found he didn't care for now.

But when John came into the bakery and his eyes fell on the person waiting for him, his shock doubled, even tripled. It wasn't Anna who was waiting for him.

It was Lady Mary. "Hello, Bates," she said, her tone neutral and calm, but her dark eyes reflecting an urgent need to talk.

"M'lady," was all John could reply in greeting, remembering just in time to touch the brim of his hat in greeting. His mind beginning to work again, it immediately realized the worst logical explanation for Lady Mary being here. "Is Anna alright? My God, has something happened to her?"

"No, no, Bates, she's perfectly fine and healthy," said Lady Mary, holding up a hand to reassure him.

John closed his eyes and sighed in tremendous relief, not bothering to hide it from Lady Mary. When he opened his eyes again, she spoke, "Would you walk with me please, Bates? I came here about something I must discuss with you."

"Of course, m'lady," said John. "I was just going out, anyway."

The two of them walked out of the bakery and began down the path into the park across the street. "Did Anna tell you my address, m'lady?" asked John.

"No, she doesn't know I'm here," said Lady Mary. "I went to The Red Lion, and your co-worker said this was your day off and gave me your address."

"And does anybody…"

"No. Branson drove me to Kirbymoorside so I could call on Lady Esther Willis and her daughters. I just did that, and he will pick me up in front of their home in an hour. Nobody else knows where you are."

John let himself feel a little more relief. They continued to walk slowly through the park until John broke the silence. "So…what is it you wanted to discuss with me, m'lady?"

Lady Mary sighed. "I came because I must ask you what your wife threatened to reveal to the papers if you did not leave with her. All I know is that it would have engulfed Downton in scandal, and that gives me a very good idea of what she was threatening to expose." Looking closely at John's face, she sighed. "Please, Bates. I have the right to know if this scandal involves myself."

"I know, m'lady," said John, sighing deeply and not looking at Lady Mary as they walked. "It indeed had something to do with you…and that Turkish gentleman, Pamuk. She said if I did not leave with her immediately, she would give the papers a story of him dying in your bed, and how Anna, as your maid, helped you cover this up."

"I see…" said Mary, her hands clutching her handbag tightly as they continued to walk. "…And what has Anna said?"

"Absolutely nothing," replied John right away. "The first time I heard of anything like that was when Vera told me of it. We never discussed the Turkish gentleman or the manner of his death after it happened."

Lady Mary could not help but feel relief and great gratitude for Anna, who had stayed loyal to her even with the man she loved so much. "Have you told Anna that this is why you had to leave?"

John sighed again. "When she found me at the pub, I told you that Vera had threatened to sell scandal to the papers, but I didn't elaborate further."

Lady Mary shook her head ever so slightly in confusion. "Why not? Surely, if Anna was part of a scandal, you would want to know for sure if it was true?"

John shook his head slightly. "Does it matter if it's true or not?"

Lady Mary turned her head sharply to look at him. "What in the world do you mean by that?"

"Firstly: a story like that, of such a scandal in an earl's grand household, the papers would grab with both hands, whether it was true or not. Secondly: there is so much anger and poisonous words in my wife that she would say anything to hurt myself and Anna, truth or lies. Thirdly: I trust Anna completely, and whatever she may have done, she would never do without a very good reason or out of anything but pure loyalty. That is something I can understand completely from my time in the war with your father."

Lady Mary looked at him with a new respect. "I haven't thought of it that way before…Papa was right."

John looked at her. "About what, m'lady."

"You really did sacrifice yourself for the honor of Downton."

He raised his eyebrows a bit. "He really said that?"

Lady Mary nodded her head. "I'm sure your main priority was protecting Anna's honor, but all the same, there was also the honor of myself, my family and Downton that you protected, Bates." She stopped them in her tracks and looked at him. "I must thank you for that, Bates, truly."

John shook his head, a pained look in his eyes. "Please don't, m'lady. At least, not until my goal is achieved and I can give Anna all she deserves."

Lady Mary nodded in understanding. "Papa told me that he lost his temper with you when you parted; he feels quite horrible about it."

"He had every right to be angry with me," said John fairly. "How would you feel if Anna, out of the blue, said she was handing in her notice, would leave the next morning, and offered no explanation?"

Lady Mary sighed and nodded. "Extremely angry and upset, but I also know I would feel as bad as Papa does now if Anna'd had as good a reason as you did."

"Exactly," said John. "When I'm a free man again, and can come back to Downton and Anna, if Lord Grantham will see me I would very much like to put things right."

"I know Papa will want that as soon as he can," said Lady Mary. "But am I right in assuming you do not want me to give him your whereabouts?"

John sighed. "I would prefer that, until this is all resolved, the less people know my whereabouts the better. I mean no offense to your father by that."

"I know you don't…" Lady Mary sighed. "Will your wife really go to the papers?"

John shook his head. "I'll make sure that she won't."

"How?"

"When my mother died last year, she left me some money, much more than I thought. That can become even more if I sell my mother's house. Vera is a greedy woman, and won't refuse what I can offer her. My proof of her infidelity is enough for me to divorce her without her cooperation in time. I will give her all she asks for, much more than any paper could give her, if she will go quietly, otherwise she won't get a penny from me. Even if she does go to the papers, it's been years since the Turk's death and most have forgotten about it, and the word of a divorced woman with no ties to Downton are anything but trustworthy, even to the most desperate journalists."

Lady Mary nodded her head in unmistakable relief. "Bates, please tell me of some way I can thank you for everything you are doing for myself and my family."

John's steps slowed and he turned to face Lady Mary. At Downton, he had never had much contact with her and didn't see her that much. But he knew enough to know that Lady Mary was usually very guarded, almost arrogant sometimes, rather like Mr. Carson. So the sight of her brown eyes shining with true, unguarded and sincere gratitude and relief forever dispelled any illusions of her being a hard-hearted person. Not that there were much, given that most of what he knew of Lady Mary came from Anna.

So John allowed himself to answer her request with just as much sincerity. "You could tell me how she is, how she is really doing, m'lady."

Lady Mary smiled softly at the request, and they began walking again. "Honestly, since she found you, her mood has lifted considerably. She smiles more, laughs more easily…I won't say that she never has moments when she's quiet or looks sad, but they are fewer than before July. It's done her good to know where you are and that you are fighting for her."

John did not disguise his tremendous relief he felt hearing Lady Mary's words. Looking at her, he said sincerely, "She's told me of how wonderful you have been to her since I left. I can never be grateful enough to you, m'lady, for the friendship and kindness you've given her."

Lady Mary shook her head dismissively. "Anna, I believe I can safely say, is the closest friend I have. Forget class difference or her being my maid; she is more loyal to me than some of my own family. This would mean, under normal circumstances, I would be anything but kind to anybody who caused her all the pain I've watched her go through…but I also know that she would never forgive me for being anything less than kind to you, Bates. I suppose all that matters now is that you love her as much as she loves you, and are working for her happiness."

Bates inclined his head and took off his hat to whom he now believed to be the second greatest lady he had met. "Thank you, m'lady."

Lady Mary smiled. "You realize the significance of the day?"

John smiled in return, indicating the parcel he still held with his free hand. "I was on my way to mail it when you came. I only wish she could receive it tonight."

Lady Mary's smile widened. "And she shall."

* * *

As Anna finished braiding Lady Mary's hair, she smiled at the sight of Lady Mary's smile in the mirror. "Good day, m'lady?"

"Yes, actually, it was very productive and satisfactory," said Lady Mary mysteriously. "I hope that you've enjoyed your birthday, Anna."

"Oh, yes," sighed Anna, tying off the braid. "Mrs. Patmore made my favorite, and we had a little party at dinner, as we do for all birthday. Your gift was wonderful, by the way, m'lady. I'll be sure to start it right away…" She let her voice drift, and both women understood the wistful silence that followed.

"It's hard to be without him today, isn't it?" asked Lady Mary gently.

"It's hard every day, m'lady," said Anna softly, folding her hands now that her task was done. "But yes…very hard."

Lady Mary stood up and faced Anna, taking her hands for a moment. "Well, I believe I can make it a bit easier for you."

Anna watched with confusion as Lady Mary walked to her writing desk and opened it. When she turned back around to Anna, there was a parcel wrapped in brown paper and string in her hands, along with an envelope. "You have one more gift."

More confused than ever, Anna walked to Lady Mary and took the parcel. Looking at the envelope, she immediately recognized the handwriting and gave a huge gasp. "How…" was all she managed to gasp when she looked at the still smiling Lady Mary.

"Lady Willis was not the only person I called on in Kirbymoorside today," was all she said in explanation.

Anna's eyes grew even wider if that were possible. "You…saw him, m'lady?"

Lady Mary nodded. "I had my own reasons. Papa told me the real reason why Bates left, about how his wife wanted to sell something to the papers. I wanted to find out exactly _what _story she wanted to sell, since we both know what that would be. He was on his way to mail that to you when I found him."

"How was he, m'lady?" asked Anna, forgetting propriety for just a moment in her shock. "Please, tell me, did he seem all right?"

Lady Mary laughed. "I think I frightened the poor man to death when he saw me. Immediately asked if _you _were all right and if something had happened. We had a good talk, and yes, he seemed perfectly all right. He feels completely certain that he will do right by you."

"He does still?" asked Anna, rather breathlessly and a bit desperately.

Lady Mary nodded. "I must say, Anna…I should have expected nothing less from you, but…you have certainly chosen a very good man. Leave aside all he's done for the reputations of myself and my family; what truly touched me was that he didn't even try to find out if his wife's threats were based on truth or not." She took Anna's hand in hers. "I cannot be more grateful to you, Anna, for your loyalty. And after talking with Bates today, you have my blessing if you chose to confide in him about that night. There are no two people I would trust more."

A tear fell down Anna's cheek as she squeezed Lady Mary's hand back and nodded. "M'lady…thank you so much. For everything." The two young woman exchanged smiled that said everything that needed to be said.

"Now, go and open your greatest gift yet!" said Lady Mary, and Anna barely remembered to bow her head before leaving a silently laughing Lady Mary at top speed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

It was a miracle that Anna made it inside the room she shared with Ethel in complete silence; the energy, eagerness and excitement coursing through her body were epic in proportions. Thankfully, Ethel slept heavier than a rock under the ocean, and didn't even stir when Anna lit the candle on her bedside table. It didn't provide enough light to illuminate the entire room, but gave more than enough light for the task at hand.

After changing into her nightgown and settling into bed, Anna placed the package on her lap, just running her fingers over it for a moment and savoring the fact that she had a gift from John. Then she slid out the envelope from under the string and felt it curiously. There was a letter inside, but also something else at the bottom. She couldn't quite make out what it was though, and eagerly but carefully opened the envelope.

When she opened it upside down, out fell both a letter and something else. It looked like a chain used for necklaces, and strung through it was a tiny silver key. Anna picked it up, looking at it more closely in the candlelight. The key looked quite ordinary, and was no longer than a large button. Wanting answers, Anna picked up the letter, unfolded it, and read in John's familiar handwriting:

_Darling Anna,_

_No material gift could ever show the measure of what is in my heart for you, so I will have to give you something straight from my heart instead. For too long, I kept secrets from you, burying them deep in my heart. Now I lay bare before you the secrets of my heart, which I know you will guard fiercely. Until we can be together for good and proper, and we will be joined together in every way, please accept this gift as a symbol of my heart, and the key to it that belongs only to you._

_Happy Birthday, my love. I am doing my best to make sure we will spend your next one and all birthdays after together._

_Your John_

With John's handkerchief, Anna dabbed at the tears threatening to fall from her eyes after she read his message. "My John…" she breathed, and then kissed the letter. After putting it back in the envelope, Anna untied the string and unwrapped the brown paper very carefully, because her hands were shaking with excitement.

On her lap now lay a plain wooden box, with a lock keeping the lid closed the same color as the small key she held. More curious and eager than ever, Anna inserted the tiny key – which fit perfectly into the keyhole – and turned it. The little lock inside clicked, and Anna, after shooting a glance at the deeply asleep Ethel, lifted the hinged lid.

Inside lay what looked like a book. Though she hated herself for it, Anna couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Like Mary, Mr. Bates had usually given her a book for her birthday and Christmas. What was so special about this book that he would consider it a symbol of his heart, and that he was asking her to guard under lock and key?

Anna became even more confused when she lifted the book out of the box and examined its exterior. No title, no author, nothing to indicate what lay inside. Just simple brown leather. Shaking her head, Anna opened it, took one look inside, and closed it right away with wide eyes and a mercifully silent gasp. Though Ethel remained sound asleep, Anna quickly put the book and John's letter into the box and locked it with the key. Almost frantically, Anna looked around their small room for a place she could put the precious box, somewhere Ethel or anybody else wouldn't look. In the small room, the options were very limited. Finally, Anna thought of under her bed, at the head against the wall, where the shadows would disguise it. So that is where she put it; to be safe, she also surrounded it the other items she kept under her bed: winter shoes, various hats, and other things of that nature. In a tiny room shared by two people, one had to use any space available for storage. Once the box was safely hidden away, Anna unlocked the chain holding the key and put it around her neck, making sure to tuck the key beneath her nightgown. With that, she blew out her candle and laid down to sleep.

In between prayers that sleep would take her quickly (which it did – she'd had a full day of work, birthday or not), only two thoughts kept ringing in her mind.

The first was this: _Thank goodness tomorrow is my afternoon off…_

The second was this: _I can't believe he's given this to me…_

* * *

The next morning, Lady Mary watched Anna do her hair with a smile on her face. "And how are you feeling this morning, Anna?"

Anna was smiling, and seemed to be trembling with a kind of impatient excitement that was rare for her. "Wonderful, m'lady, and you?"

"Oh, I'm just fair," said Lady Mary, her smile widening. "I take it you enjoyed your last birthday present?"

Anna opened her mouth as if to reply, but shut it again and just nodded.

Lady Mary chose not to ask what it was, remembering her conversation with Bates the previous day. Though he had not said anything about what it might be, it had been clear that whatever the parcel consisted of, it was personal and private between the two of them.

Anna, in her turn, felt relieved that Lady Mary didn't ask what the gift had been, and relished in the feeling of the hidden key pressing coolly against the skin of her chest.

* * *

The moment her afternoon began, Anna had made a beeline for her room and shut the door behind her. She now had several free hours until dinner service to begin John's wonderful present, which she still had trouble believing he had really given her.

In the next moment, she sat cross legged on her bed with the simple brown leather book lying on her lap. Anna stroked the plain cover with her fingertips, as though it were a sacred relic. Well, to her it was.

With trembling fingers, Anna opened the book and saw the date he had written: _Sixteenth of April, 1912. _Anna recalled this being the day that the house had found out about the sinking of the _Titanic, _and subsequently the day they had learned of the deaths of Mr. Patrick and his father.

But to Anna, the day had one true significance: this was the day that Mr. Bates had come to Downton. It made sense to Anna: Mr. Bates had wanted to start a new and better life when he came to Downton, so it would make sense he would begin a new journal rather than continue in an old one.

Then again, until Anna had opened the box, she hadn't known that Mr. Bates had even kept a journal.

She took a deep breath, and began to read his first entry, all about his first day at Downton…

* * *

_All in all, today has gone better than I could ever have expected it to have gone. And for me, this has been nothing but refreshing and a much-needed relief._

_ His lordship had spoken of Downton quite often during the war, but he had been right when he'd said no words could properly describe the grandeur of this beautiful place he is privileged to reign over. Perhaps to some it would seem a bit obnoxious in its grandness, but if they knew his lordship they would lose any such thoughts. For all of his human flaws, his lordship is a good and honorable man who loves his family and his home with all he has. Seeing him again has reminded me of that, and I could not be more grateful for this chance he is giving me. _

_ However, I don't think he knew that the old wound had flared up again. I could see his look of surprise when he saw me again in the servants' hall. I must admit, after a day of skeptical looks and hidden bitterness from most of the people, I rather enjoyed it when his lordship came down to greet me, and seeing all of their gobsmacked faces. Especially her ladyship's maid and that first footmen, who haven't really bothered to disguise their rude welcome at all. I have a feeling that I should expect their faces to always stay that sour, no matter the day or time. Must be careful around them._

_ The butler and housekeeper seem to be top-notch. In a house like this, I realize, one can't be anything less. Mr. Carson seems to be very traditional and tight-laced, ruling downstairs with an iron firmness; the same could be said for Mrs. Hughes over the maids, though I get the feeling she is a bit more open-minded than her counterpart. I suppose I will have to wait and find out more as the days go on._

_ I really cannot blame any of their skepticism or awkwardness upon meeting me and seeing my cane. I expected nothing less, and it's perfectly understandable. As I've stated before, anybody working in a house this big must be top-notch in their jobs. This means that I will have to prove myself, to those both upstairs and downstairs, that I can do this job. I started tonight, and I am happy to say that all went smoothly considering it was my first night. _

_ I had the opportunity of meeting her ladyship for the first time when I'd finished. I can't count the number of times his lordship had talked of his new wife when we were in South Africa, this "striking beauty of an heiress from America." Even at her age, I can see what he meant and how much he adores her. She was polite and kind in meeting me, but she looked at my cane just as everyone else today has._

_ Actually, now that I think of it, there was one person today who had not looked at me with skepticism. The head housemaid has shown me nothing but kindness since I arrived this morning, even backing me when I was introduced to Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. Her name is Anna, and she looks to be in her early to mid-twenties, and her speech says she's from Yorkshire as most of the servants here are. She's a fair thing, with light hair and light eyes. Reminds me of the way my mother would describe the sidhe in the tales she loved to tell of her homeland. Well, whether Anna has faery blood or not, it felt nice to have someone look at my face rather than my cane when they spoke to me, and with nothing less than kind welcome..._

* * *

Anna had to clamp her hand over her mouth to smother the giggles that wanted to burst out. _She, _have faery blood? She hadn't expected him to think anything like that on only their first day knowing each other. But she couldn't deny how pleased it made her feel to read it.

She read through the next entries, as Mr. Bates settled into life at Downton and facing the doubts of his lordship and everybody else. It was painful to read his recollection of the Duke's arrival. Her blood boiled in anger when she read that it had been Miss O'Brien's fault, knocking his cane with her foot. _If she weren't so much better now, I would give her such a talking to…_

Then she reached the next day, when he had been dismissed by Lord Grantham. The pain he had felt then was so evident in his writing it brought a tear to her eyes. And then she came to the point in that day she most wanted to read about:

* * *

_...What a pathetic man I am. I loathe falling into self-pity, especially weeping, and I was determined not to let myself do that if this position at Downton did not work out. But when Lord Grantham told me this afternoon that this wasn't going to work out, I knew internally that I wouldn't be able to prevent it later. To his credit, I could see that he did not enjoy this task, so I tried to persuade him without begging pathetically to reconsider, but I knew it would be to no avail._

_ Thank goodness Mr. Carson allowed me to miss dinner with the others; the last thing I wanted to do was feel the satisfied smirks of O'Brien and Thomas, along with the pitying glances of others. Instead, I stayed in my room and cried like a pathetic child. The tears wouldn't stop themselves, and each felt like a shameful burn rolling down my face. It's no mystery why they came, however: I felt hopeless, and I still do. This had been my last chance to reclaim something of who I had once been, to prove that I could work as well as any man without an impediment. But I was wrong, and I still have no idea what I will do. I must leave early in the morning…I suppose I'll rent a room in a public house and try to find work…If I truly can't find anything in Yorkshire, I'll go back to London and stay with my mother…surely _something _will turn up in that vast city, even for a man like myself._

_ A man like myself…what was it that Anna told me? "There's always a place for a man like you." How I wish I could believe that, or that I could believe my own assurances to her that I would be all right. I'm still in shock from that encounter with her a few moments ago…and slightly ashamed of myself, as well._

_ As I was drowning in my own hopelessness and self-pity through tears, I heard someone call for me from the hallway. I wiped my face (though I knew my eyes were still red and would give me away), and walked to the door. When I opened it, there stood Anna with a tray of food she had brought up for me because I had missed dinner. I had not expected anybody to make such a gesture for me; after all, I'd only worked here a week, was being dismissed for being a hindrance, and they would want to eat their own meals before attending to the people upstairs. Thankfully, I didn't realize how hungry I really was until I saw the tray._

_ After I took the tray from her, I must admit that all I wanted was to be left alone with it. I had realized that my door had not been closed all the way, so there's a very good chance that she heard my pathetic tears. So all I could feel was shame and embarrassment while she tried to comfort me. It reminded me of when I had been tripped, how she had helped me up and dusted my sleeves. I hadn't wanted pity then, and I didn't want it now. So all I could feel through our short conversation was the shame of what she may have heard and what my eyes revealed, shame that I must seem such a pathetic creature in her eyes to be pitied._

_ It wasn't until my stomach had been satisfied that I came to a realization I should have seen before now. If all Anna felt was pity for me, would she have taken time away from her own dinner to bring some up to me? No. If she only felt sorry for me, would she ask me to drop her a line when I'd been settled so she wouldn't worry? No. I learned today the critical difference between pity and empathy: pity implies one looking down on someone lower than they are and feeling sorry for their circumstances without trying to understand them; empathy is truly trying to understand while standing on equal ground and eye-to-eye with that person._

_ Anna never gave me pity…she empathized with me. I don't believe anybody has ever felt that for me before, or really tried to._

_ Now I feel wretched and wish I could apologize to her. All she wanted was to help me and I brushed her aside in my embarrassment and shame. Perhaps it's only right I be dismissed, if I'm going to be selfish when I shouldn't be. And the worst is that I will have no opportunity or chance to see her one last time before I leave, just to show her I truly have appreciated her kindness and welcome to me while I've been here._

_ Well, when I am settled somewhere, I _will _drop her a line then, and try to apologize…but it probably won't do much good…If my life has taught me anything, it is that everything good in my life that I touch just turns to rot eventually._

* * *

"Oh, Mr. Bates…" Anna murmured when she had finished reading that entry. Again, she had to wipe her eyes with his handkerchief. Of course she didn't blame him for his embarrassment and shame – lesser men than him would have tried to take revenge or left causing harm to all he could reach. And her heart filled at the knowledge that he had recognized her compassion not as pity but for what it truly was.

Eagerly, she turned to the next page, where she knew she would find a happier entry:

* * *

_...I never used to believe in the saying, "Things will be better in the morning," but now I have caused to believe it. I don't know what made Lord Grantham change his heart, and I don't care. I am still at Downton, and I plan to be for as long as possible, doing my work to the best of my ability and prove once and for all that I am more than a man with a gammy leg. I don't care if it was only Lord Grantham's pity that has me here now; what matters is that I can stay._

_ I couldn't resist casting a glance at Thomas as I passed the front door to walk around the house. Of course, he kept his face neutral before his lordship, but I could see his eyes blazing. I shall never let my guard down with him, or O'Brien for that matter. I've had enough trouble in my life, and the last thing I want is to start more with them._

_ As I made my way around the house towards the servants' courtyard and entrance, I felt no real excitement for seeing the shock on the other's faces that I would be staying. But there _was _one whose face I did want to see, because I knew on that face would be something better than only shock._

_ Anna was actually out in the courtyard by herself when I came; she was polishing the riding boots of one of the daughters. But she stopped when she heard me and looked at me with the astonishment I expected. "Mr. Bates?" she said. "What…"_

_ I couldn't resist smiling at the hope I saw in her eyes, for she knew that if I were leaving I would have left by now. I told her that I would, in fact, be staying at Downton. Her entire expression became radiant as she smiled and clapped her hands once, and I believed her when she said how glad she was of that. And I was able to properly thank her for her kindness she showed me yesterday, putting my shame aside._

_ How could I ever have taken her for one who would only pity? She's young and yet got a sound head and heart beyond her years. Quite a mystery, much like the faery she first reminded me of. I look forward to getting to know this new friend better, for I believe I have found a true one in her, and that makes the prospect of staying at Downton better than even I could have hoped for._

* * *

The smile on Anna's face as she finished this day's entry was such that her cheeks hurt, but she didn't care. She giggled without abandon, and hugged the journal to her chest. She felt so honored, so privileged, so humbled and so touched that he had entrusted this with her. Mr. Bates had been right when he'd said he was sending her the best symbol of his heart he could give. The fact that he had, for so long, tried to keep so many things from her, and was now holding nothing back from her…the fact that the man she loved no longer wanted to hide from her but shared all of his heart with her…Anna had never felt such happiness, and knew only seeing him again for good and proper would ever surpass that.

But, for now, she had a precious treasure that could keep her going, for now she no longer dreaded time to herself: she would have the closest thing to her John that was possible now.

* * *

**A/N: **_I know you faithful readers have missed the Anna/Bates interaction, so this is my way of making it up to you. They still have a ways to go until they will be reunited, so the next chapter will be full of entries that I LOVE writing, diving into John's head. So please be optimistically patient like our hero and heroine, and PLEASE REVIEW!_


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **_I'm sorry it's been so long since I last updated this; another story and life got in the way. I promise my updates will be quicker and more frequent now. I have a modern A/B story I am itching to let out!_

* * *

**Ten**

_Twenty-Second of September, 1912_

_ Well, this has certainly been an eventful day. When an unexpected visitor comes to the house, barges in where he is not welcome, tries blackmail to get his way and threaten scandal if he doesn't, of course it is an eventful day at Downton. Perhaps the most surprising factor of today's events is the identity of the person caught in the crossfire: Mr. Carson. Of all members of staff here, he would be the last that anybody would imagine having a…I struggle to find the right word. "Interesting" perhaps would be the best word, for it does not necessarily imply vulgarity but it does imply something out of the ordinary. _

_ And a past career on the stage definitely qualifies as an "interesting" background._

_ I still can't quite wrap my mind around this revelation. The thought of strict, severe, no-nonsense Mr. Carson singing and dancing on the stage in a double act…well, one certainly can't help but smile at the very least._

_ However, this does not mean that my respect or regard for the man has lessened at all. If anything, it has increased exponentially. He has done what I am trying to do now: taken control of his life and made it what he wanted, finding great success and satisfaction in his work. Of course I will not think less of him because of this knowledge, but I cannot lie and say that the idea of him on the stage is quite amusing._

_ I was struck by Anna's innocence and goodness when she said that we mustn't let this change the way we think of Mr. Carson. Is that even possible for human beings? I do not think so. Even if you do not come to think negatively of the person, you will view them at least a little bit differently. There is always change, either good or bad or simply different. I know that the both of us certainly will not think badly because of it. I wish I could say the same for myself, if Anna were ever to find out about the chapters in my own life I never wish to revisit. Not even she, the best woman I know besides my own mother, would help but think less of me. The only reason my mother does not is because of just that: she is my mother._

_ Despite gaining new respect for Mr. Carson today, I almost wish the incident hadn't happened. When the front door bell rang, Anna and I had been alone in the servants' hall, which almost never happens during the day. It had been the first time we had been alone since I was reprieved from leaving Downton. I'd been looking forward to the opportunity to get to know her more, and enjoy her company without others milling around._

_ And I would rather not wait for the next traveling salesman to have that opportunity again._

* * *

September had shifted to October, and autumn bloomed around Downton Abbey in its full glory. The leaves of the trees had taken on the traditional fiery colors of gold, orange and red, and were a marvelous sight in the crisp autumn sun. Though the air had cooled the heat of the summer, it was not yet cold enough to keep everybody inside.

Every afternoon, when it did not rain, the same three people would sit out in the servants' courtyard and work: Anna, O'Brien and Lang. Each had their individual work to do, and consequently their concentration resides with that. But, as time went on, conversations between them became more and more frequent. Anna's friendships with both O'Brien and Lang grew stronger every day, and Anna couldn't describe how grateful she was for it.

During these conversations, Anna would see a change come over both O'Brien and Lang. Their bodies would relax, and their facial features would soften. When they spoke, Lang's tone would not be tight or despairing, and O'Brien's would not be biting or superior. This change was especially noticeable when they spoke to each other. Watching them in those moments, Anna couldn't help but wonder if this was how other people felt watching her and Bates when he had been here. The thought made her smile, and was happy that they had this effect on each other.

One afternoon in early October, the three of them sat in the courtyard working. Heavy clouds were looming on the northern horizon, and inching farther south every minute. O'Brien looked at them and groaned. "A storm's coming, that's a guarantee."

"Yes," said Lang softly. "Can you smell the rain coming?"

Anna nodded, for she indeed could. "Did you grow up on a farm too, Mr. Lang?"

"My father was a farmer in Kent," replied Lang, nodding. "He'd hoped I would take over the farm, being the oldest. But it was my younger brother who ultimately took over the farm; he'd always been much better suited for that life than myself."

"How did you come into service, then?" asked O'Brien. "You told me your mother was a lady's maid. Did she encourage you?"

"In a way. She loved my father and never regretted leaving service to marry him, but I think she did miss the work. Once we were old enough, she taught my twin sister and myself how to use a needle and thread. We had a natural knack for it, so we went into service at fifteen: me as a hall boy, her as a junior housemaid. How old were you when you started, Anna?"

"I started as a junior housemaid at fourteen here at Downton," Anna replied, looking up from her sewing. "My family lived on one of the tenant farms on the estate." She never liked to elaborate on the more tragic circumstances of her past, so she turned to O'Brien. "How old were you when you entered service, Miss O'Brien?"

"Eighteen or nineteen," said Miss O'Brien, not looking up from her work. Clearly, she did not want to talk about her past either. So Anna felt that a change of topic was much needed.

Looking back up at the sky, she commented, "I wonder if this will be a simple rainfall or a storm. Those clouds look pretty ambiguous to me. What do you think, Mr. Lang?"

He didn't reply. When Anna turned her gaze back to him, she immediately became worried. Mr. Lang was sitting as rigidly as a board; his eyes were glassed over and his hands were shaking. "Mr. Lang?"

O'Brien now noticed what was happening, and immediately set down her work. She put her hand on Lang's shoulder firmly, and spoke to him in a gentle, comforting yet firm voice that Anna had never heard her use before. "Mr. Lang, it's all right. Come back now. You're in no danger. All is fine and well here."

Seconds passed, and Lang slowly obeyed O'Brien's orders. His hands stopped shaking, and his posture loosened. When the glassy sheen of his eyes disappeared, he began to breathe as though he had run the entire border of the Downton estate. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow, which had begun to sweat, and said a bit breathlessly, "Forgive me…I'm just going to…walk a bit…get a little more air before it rains…" He got up and walked away, out of their line of vision. O'Brien watched him leave with such worried tenderness Anna wanted to press her hand to her heart.

"Surprised he didn't piss his pants this time."

Anna and O'Brien turned in surprise to find Thomas leaning by the doorway, smoking a cigarette, a look of amused contempt on his face. "If he lasts another month without crying like a girl, I'll know for sure that he's insane or faking it."

"I thought you didn't want to work here anymore, Thomas," snapped Anna. "So why are you even bothering to notice any of us?"

Thomas smirked at her. "How else am I to amuse myself? I've earned some amusement, after serving king and country." He waved his bandaged left hand in front of them like a teasing child. "Besides, without your precious Bates here, who else is going to amuse me?"

Anna tightened her jaw and clamped her mouth shut. She wanted nothing more than to slap Thomas across the face, or at least give him a good shouting…but she thought of John. He had much more cause to teach Thomas a lesson, but he'd never stooped to Thomas's low level. So neither would she. Knowing that John would be proud of her was more than enough to keep her mouth shut.

Thomas, seeing that Anna was not going to bite at his bait. turned to O'Brien. Throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it to the ground, he said without a smirk, "Who'd have thought you had it in you?" He then went back into the house without another word but a withering glance for the two of them.

Once he was gone, Anna turned to O'Brien, who was looking at the spot where Thomas had stood. The expression in her eyes was more contemptuous than Anna had ever seen before – and _that _was saying something.

After some moments of heavy silence, O'Brien resumed her work and spoke to Anna. "Well, I know for sure now."

"Know what?" Anna asked.

"That hand injury was no accident."

Anna's eyes widened. "You mean…he actually…shot _himself?_"

"Or put himself in the line of fire. After all, he joined up as a medic in order to avoid actual battles and combat. Thought he would ride out the war in a cushy hospital. Hmph! Never thought for a moment that he wasn't nearly trained enough for that, and that he would be sent to treat wounds on scene, where medics are needed most. In every letter he wrote me, all he talked about was wanting to get out. An injury would do it. And the fact that he was shot in his non-dominant hand, well…"

Anna felt a cold chill sweep through her at the thought of anybody being so desperate. But what chilled her the most was the fact that a person could survive something like that, and not want to better himself. O'Brien had bettered herself, and she'd never even seen the battlefield!

_You naïve woman…_her conscience whispered to her. _Unfortunately, not all men are like your John…_

* * *

_Eighteenth of March, 1913_

_ What a relief to be sitting down. I knew that this would be difficult but this device is as agonizing as my injury was when it happened. Now all I can do is hope that it will get better as the days pass. I wish the salesman had been more forthcoming about how long this process would take. Perhaps it depends on the person and the injury…or maybe he knows his product is not as effective as he has advertised it to be. _

_ Perhaps this is just the pain talking, but perhaps that is only wishful thinking. All that I can do now is not let anybody know about it. Already I have to be more careful. Mrs. Hughes caught me in a moment of pain in the hallway today; I made a plausible excuse, but I'm not sure her sharp mind believed me. I must be more careful now._

_ Thankfully, there is enough excitement in the house for anybody to think about my pain, with that Turkish gentleman staying here. All of the females are simply swooning over him. Even Anna, who always has such a level head, has observed him. Gwen teased her at supper today of how she called him "beautiful" when he first arrived. I myself have yet to glimpse this man, but I highly doubt he's some Apollo reincarnated. _

_ The last person I want to find out about my attempt is Anna. She saw me wince in pain while we were trying to comfort Gwen, and asked if I was all right. With her kind heart, how could she not? But of course I did not respond. I don't want to give her a reason to worry about me. God knows her workload is busy enough. And if watching the Turk means she is distracted from noticing my leg…well, I suppose I should feel thankful, even if I don't._

_ I am glad that the pain was almost unnoticeable this evening in the servants' hall. The two of us both had some work that needed doing after everyone else had turned in. It's rare that we are ever alone, but I greatly look forward to the conversations we have when we are. I feel we could talk for hours and never run out of steam._

_ Tonight, we talked of Gwen and the dilemma she is facing with her future. I find it admirable that she aspires for a career as a secretary. However, I can understand why the others downstairs might be offended by her wanting to leave service. God knows anybody of the working class who can work in a house like this is very lucky indeed. But I wish that the others could understand, as Anna and I do, that this life would not make everybody feel content. _

_ Both Anna and I have vowed to support her in this any way that we can. The poor thing had a moment of hopelessness today, and I'm glad we were able to at least prop her up. Anna loves her like a sister, and that was nice to see today. She would be such a wonderful mother…_

_ In talking of Gwen's ambitions tonight, I asked her if she dreamed of a different life outside of service. After all, she is young, and I've just stated that she would make such a wonderful mother (though I didn't say so to her for hear she would be embarrassed). But she said that she was happy with her lot: she had a good position, was very good at her work, and has earned the respect of everyone here both upstairs and down (she deserves it more than anybody). I can easily see her excelling to the position of lady's maid when Lady Mary or one of the other girls marries, or taking over as housekeeper when Mrs. Hughes chooses to retire. _

_ No, Anna has every right to be proud of what she has accomplished, and I'm glad she is content with the life she has. I can't imagine what Downton would be like without her…_

* * *

Anna finished and signed her letter with a satisfied smile. After Gwen had left Downton to start her new job as a secretary, the two of them had kept up a steady correspondence. However, because of both of their demanding careers, their letters were often separated by weeks or months. Nevertheless, their friendship remained as strong as ever.

Gwen had told her she had a week off next month, and wanted to come to the village and spend the afternoon together if her half-day coincided with it. Thankfully, it did, and Anna had just finished her happy acceptance and arrangements for that day. She hadn't seen Gwen since she had left Downton over three years ago, and Anna greatly looked forward to seeing her again. She really did love Gwen like a sister, and at times she missed her greatly, especially when John had left.

As Anna sealed the full envelope, the door opened and Ethel came in quietly with a secret smile on her face. "Working late?" Anna asked pointedly.

The smile disappeared from Ethel's face and she flushed a bit. "I thought you'd be asleep."

"I had a letter to write," said Anna, looking closely at the young woman. "But we'd better get to sleep now; we'll be of no use in the morning otherwise."

Ethel only nodded, and quickly changed from her maid's uniform to her nightgown. Anna noticed that Ethel seemed a bit out of breath, and her hair was quite messy. _What on earth has she been doing?_

This wasn't the first time that Anna had caught Ethel coming in late, and Anna had a strong instinct that her reasons had nothing to do with work. But what proof did she have? After all, Ethel had improved in her work – gradually, if not greatly – throughout the past year, and had learned to keep her dreams and ambitions to herself. In some ways, she reminded Anna of Gwen, but Ethel's nature was more self-centered than Gwen's ever was. And though she had improved in the past year, she was still quite immature in many ways, especially when it came to all of the soldiers convalescing here…

Anna bit back a gasp at a possibility for Ethel's behavior, and remembered how much she talked of Major Bryant. _Could she be…_Anna quickly pushed this thought away and settled into bed after blowing out the candle that lit their room. Even if Anna firmly believed this was going on, she had no proof, and she would never go to Mrs. Hughes with such an accusation without proof. Also, the last thing this house needed was more drama, especially among staff. Every day seemed to bring Mr. Carson closer to a heart attack as, one by one, little rules he cherished so dearly had to be bent in the face of the war and Downton's new occupation as a convalescent home. Ethel's work was good and sufficient, and that was the main thing that mattered.

So Anna kept her silence, but vowed that, if she saw anything suspicious, would confront Ethel immediately.

* * *

_Seventh of May, 1913_

_ I think I'm in trouble. And when I write trouble, I don't mean the typical kind of trouble that involves risk to the body or career…but trouble of the heart. The kind of trouble that I never thought I would experience again._

_ It seems I was not the only one who had that kind of trouble today. The fair came to Downton Village today, and nearly everyone from the house went there this evening. William had been hoping to ask Daisy to go to the fair with him, but Thomas got there first out of pure spite. Gwen told me, when they came back, that Daisy had really broken his heart by hanging on Thomas. What's sad is that Daisy doesn't have a nasty or spiteful bone in her body; she is just very simple-minded, naïve, and under an evil spell. Poor William…I've let him know I am here for him, but he wants to keep to himself. I don't blame him; I would be exactly the same way at that age._

_ Either Thomas must have gone through an absolute hell in his life, or he has no heart at all. I knew people like him in the war: men who find pleasure in others' pain – usually by his own doing. He'll be happy when he breaks Daisy's heart and William's spirit. I nearly lost my temper with him a few minutes ago, pinning him against the wall and threatening to punch his teeth in if he didn't leave William alone. He just smirked at me and showed no fear, because he knows I wouldn't do anything to lose my job. But I can take satisfaction in the flash of fear that crossed his eyes when I grabbed him – bet he thought a cripple like me didn't have it in him._

_ However, it is not another's trouble of the heart that I must confront now. Besides myself, there was one other person who did not go to the fair: Anna. She would have, and I would have joined her, had she not fallen ill. As I was coming downstairs after dressing his lordship, I found Anna on one of the landings, nearly doubled over and gripping the railing with a handkerchief pressed to her face as she coughed. _

_ "Anna, are you all right?" I asked her once on the same level as her. My hand came to rest on her upper back of its own volition._

_ "I'm fine, Mr. Bates," she rasped, half her voice gone. "Just a little under the weather today. Mrs. Hughes has ordered me back to bed."_

_ "Then you're not fine at all," I said, rubbing her back as she coughed. "I suppose this means you won't be going to the fair, then."_

_ "Unfortunately," she breathed. "I was looking forward to it. But you have fun; don't worry about me, Mr. Bates, I'll be fine by tomorrow."_

_ "Just get some rest now so that can be true," I said and then she went back up the steps. Right then I decided I wouldn't go to the fair; the only reason I had considered going in the first place was because she was going._

_ It wasn't the same without her at luncheon and supper, and I missed our small conversations. Also, with everyone at the fair, nobody remembered to bring Anna up any supper. I couldn't stand the thought of her up there, sick and alone all day, and with nothing to eat. So – when I made sure O'Brien was too busy complaining to notice – I made up a tray of food and milk for her. Just before I took it up, I remembered how fond Anna is of flowers and that they always seem to cheer her up. It being the lovely month of May outside, I didn't have to go any farther than the courtyard to find some lovely wildflowers. After sticking them in a tiny vase, I carried the tray upstairs._

_ Anna was hesitant to open the dividing door in the servants' quarters, and I don't blame her. But eventually she did, and opened it to see what I had brought her. She tried to talk, but I shushed her, remembering what a big rule we were both breaking right now. But it was worth it, even if Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes caught us. She needed her supper, and she looked so touched and grateful at my gesture. Being in her nightgown and shawl, her hair was not tied back but flowed in a loose braid down her back. I'd never seen her so natural before…and in my eyes, even if her nose and eyes were a bit red, she'd never been more lovely._

_ See how much trouble I am in? I've always thought her lovely, but I hadn't realized just how deep my attraction ran for her until today. When I saw her today, both this morning and this evening, I had this longing to…hold her to me, warm her, comfort her somehow. She's quite a small thing, after all; I really noticed it when I brought her the tray for she was only wearing slippers. And I wished I could have stayed with her while she ate, so she would have some company._

_ I need to stop myself right there. She is the dearest friend I have, and the last thing I want to do is ruin that by thinking of her like that. But how can I help it? She is beautiful, and nothing could ever change that. It's only natural and right to see her like that. But I must be careful not to let this attraction grow into anything more, and she must never find out. It wouldn't be right, and her friendship is too precious to me._

* * *

As Anna brushed out Lady Mary's long, thick, chestnut hair before braiding it, her employer said, "Papa has had a letter from Matthew today. He writes that he is safe, and that William is serving him admirably."

Anna sighed in relief while she smiled. "That's wonderful news, my lady. All of us downstairs will be relieved to know our William is safe now."

Lady Mary smiled softly, for she too was relieved that the two of them were all right. As her cheeks became a little pink, she cleared her throat and asked, "So, Anna, have you found any time to read my birthday present to you?"

Anna nodded her head as she braided. "Yes, m'lady, as a matter of fact. I'm about halfway through the story."

"Would you tell me what it's about? Jane, Lady Willis's youngest daughter, told me that _North & South _is an excellent novel_._"

"So far, I find it very good. It centers around a young woman named Margaret Hale, whose father moved her and her mother from the rural south to an industrial town far north. As you can imagine, there is quite a dramatic difference between the two places."

Lady Mary shuddered. "I couldn't bear to live in a town like that; I wonder the air is breathable at all."

"It is quite unhealthy. Anyway, the main story is between her and John Thornton, one of the mill owners. Each represent their respective cultures, and there are clashes between the two of them. But it's quite obvious that the two are really meant for each other, despite their differences."

Lady Mary made no response to this. When Anna looked in the mirror as she finished tying off the braid, she saw that Lady Mary was blinking back tears. She wanted to apologize, for she realized the reason of the tears. But before she could, Lady Mary had pushed them back and said, with dignity, "I wonder if I might borrow that book when you are finished, Anna. It sounds most interesting."

"Of course, m'lady."

* * *

_Fifteenth of August, 1913_

_ I can't even begin to process what happened today. All I know is that I never thought it was a possibility._

_ It happened as all of us downstairs were walking to the flower show. Anna and I trailed behind the rest of the group at a considerable distance; she always keeps pace with my snail-like one so I would not be alone. We were talking of Thomas and then Mrs. Patmore, and I told her that nothing is harder to live with than false hope. I know that only too well; false hope was all I received after my injury, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was give her any of that._

_ But my statement seemed to break something in her, for she stopped in her tracks and confronted me about keeping secrets from her. Of course, I couldn't deny that fact, but I told her I couldn't tell her anything. I saw the disappointment in her eyes when I told her, so I told her that I wasn't a free man: not free to tell her anything, not free to feel what I feel about her. _

_ And then she said the words I will never forget, with her eyes bright and her shaking voice determinedly strong: "I love you, Mr. Bates. I know it's not lady-like to say it, but I'm not a lady and I don't pretend to be." _

_ All I could do while she spoke was look at her, for I was in shock. I hadn't seen that coming. Even when we were talking in Lady Edith's bedroom, I never dreamed she had feelings for me beyond affection and even some attraction. No, all I could do in my shock now was stare at her, this good and innocent woman. And all I could think is the same thought that has echoed in my mind over and over again: If I could only change things, I would. In a heartbeat, I would._

_ What could I say to her? I knew I couldn't respond the way she wanted me to, and I felt sick that I couldn't. I could see how much it had taken for her to say that, how vulnerable she had made herself, but how could I tell her? So, I found a kind of middle ground with another honest statement: that she is the finest lady I have ever known._

_ Thankfully, at that moment, a cart came along and offered a ride to one of us. She insisted I take it, and I told her I wouldn't want to slow her up any more than I already have. Of course she knew all that I meant by that, but I got on the wagon and it was off before she could protest. At least I was gentle about it when I said it._

_ For that is all I would ever do for Anna. I slow her up by being slower than everyone else. I would slow her from reaching her full potential, either in her career or a chance to have a family, if I responded honestly to her. I would not only slow her down, but blacken her name by letting her become attached to me: a man who is legally married to a monster that has disappeared, always haunting me and forever chained to me._

_ There is nothing I can give Anna that she deserves. Even the truth, which I know she wants, would devastate her and push her away from me. That is all I could think, along with her words, as I watched her figure get smaller and smaller as the cart took me away._

_ The rest of the day, all I could do was watch her close herself off to me. Sitting next to her at dinner, I could feel the tension and humiliation radiating from her, and I knew it was all my doing. It reminded me of the war: watching my fellow soldiers around me crying for help and relief, while I could do nothing because I was injured myself. I had no idea how to comfort her in front of everybody, and she did not stay late in the servants' hall with me like she usually did._

_ My mind is clearer now, about what to do. I wrote months ago that her friendship was important to me, so important that I would not to anything to ruin it. I must find a way of reclaiming that friendship, and letting her know both how important it is while reminding her it could never be more. And I have to think of something tonight, for I can't bear to watch her like this one more day. The hardest part will be making her understand that I can never answer the question she so wants to ask me:_

_ Do I love her back?...How can I not?_

* * *

Anna knew that this would probably be the last warm day of the year. Such was the way in Yorkshire. So she would take full advantage of it, and thank God it coincided with her half-day. Instead of being cooped up in her room, Anna was seated underneath an old oak tree on the estate. Though the house was in view, she was well hidden from prying eyes. She had smuggled John's diary, locked safely in the box, out of the building folded in sheets that needed laundering.

The sun was low now, and Anna knew that she should start heading back to the house before she was missed. So she closed the diary with a sigh, after reading the entry he'd written on the day of the flower show. That fateful day when she had taken a big leap and shown her heart to him. Looking back, she did not regret her confession that day, but at the time she had wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and disappear. Of course John would have noticed her closing him off, but what else could she do? Never before had she done something like this, even though it was her nature to always be honest. But then again, never before had she been in love with anybody.

All that night, she had tossed and turned, cursing herself for her actions, because she felt that their friendship was ruined now. He would be afraid to be alone with her, to talk to her, even look at her, now. She lost the dearest thing to her heart because she'd let her frustration and impatience get the better of her.

Looking back now, Anna almost chuckled, now that she knew that John had been in as much agony as she had been over their seemingly-lost friendship. A smile spread across her face as she remembered what had happened the very next day…

_Anna was sitting on a crate in the servants' courtyard, wanting to be out of the crowded and hot servants' hall as she cleaned Lady Edith's boots. But she was really avoiding _him.

_But he'd found her. When she heard his familiar step come outside, she forced herself not to stop in her work or look at him. Her cheeks were flaming, and she again wanted to crawl under something, her wounded pride smarting worse than ever._

_ But then he spoke. "Anna?" And how could she ignore his voice when it sounded like _that?_ So she looked up to find him staring at her. His dark eyes were bright, not from tears but with some kind of emotion. "Do you remember a few days ago, I helped you make Lady Edith's bed? Do you remember the conversation we had about Lady Edith and Mr. Patrick?"_

_ For a moment, Anna's brain was slow to respond. She thought back to that day, and the conversation came back to her mind easily. But she didn't really understand why he was bringing this up. "What about it?"_

_ "I'm quite convinced now how Mr. Patrick felt," he said, softly but firmly. _

What on Earth…_thought Anna. _He never even knew Mr. Patrick, how can he…_And then she realized what he was doing, just as they had done when this conversation had happened. _Oh!

_"Mr. Patrick was in no position or had any right to return her feelings, despite his heart having a mind of its own, so to speak."_

_ Anna could just stare at him and say, "…Really?"_

_ "Yes. Circumstances he cannot disclose or destroy right now keep his heart locked away, despite it breaking hers. But this is most important: there was nothing more precious to him than his strong friendship with her. The last thing he wants is to lose that under any circumstances."_

_ Listening to this, Anna should have felt frustration and anger over his cryptic answers and refusal to do what she had done. But she felt none of that. Instead, she felt a profound relief and peace flood through her. Why? Because the conviction in his voice and his eyes told her exactly what was in his heart, and it matched hers. By that, she knew that he spoke the truth: if he could, he would, but he couldn't – and he wouldn't let her go._

_ Finally, her eyes overbright, she replied with equal conviction: "Neither would she." _

_ He smiled and she smiled. He sat down beside her and they both resumed their work, their friendship repaired only to grow stronger by the day. _

Looking back under the oak tree, she realized what exactly it had been that had prevented her from feeling frustrated or despondent. It was one of the phrases he had said: "Circumstances he cannot disclose or destroy right now," the key words being _right now. _That had given her hope, and the strength to be patient. And now, Anna knew her patience was paying off: John was fighting for their future together, and she knew her John would not let her down.

So, after locking the diary safely away and disguising it with the bed sheet, Anna walked back to Downton with a hopeful smile on her face.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

_Fourteenth of May, 1914_

_ I wonder how much longer I have at Downton now. This is different than before, when I was told to leave outright. Now everything is up in the air, and I have no idea what is going to happen. Well, perhaps it's not a question of what but when. I wish I knew; then I could at least prepare and ready myself for it._

_ There may be a possibility that I will stay, but I will not let myself hope for that. I've already been given one reprieve; I highly doubt someone like me will get another, especially now that some of my past is known. Though Mr. Carson has mastered the art of the poker face, I could see the flash of horror that crossed his face at the mention of my prison sentence. Perhaps, for the first time, he felt grateful he had a vaudeville act in his past, for what is that compared to prison? Mrs. Hughes at least looked surprised rather than scandalized._

_ I didn't look at Anna as I confessed part of my past. While I needed her to know, I didn't want to see the look on her face, whether it would resemble Mrs. Hughes's or Mr. Carson's more._

_ Just a half an hour ago, I was standing under a tree in the courtyard, contemplating all that had happened. But I was not alone for long; Anna soon came out and approached me. I felt sure that she would confront me, demanding if it was all true and why I could do something like that. But she didn't. Instead, she asked if I would really leave. And when she asked, she looked frightened and had tears in her eyes._

_ God, how can she still love me? After learning that about that past? And she doesn't even know the whole story. In response to her question, I said I doubted his Lordship would want a thief in the house, and for her to go to sleep and dream of a better man. After all, I will most likely be leaving soon. I couldn't bear to think of her forever pining for a man she doesn't even know completely, a man who could never have her the way she deserves._

_ But in response, she told me she couldn't because there wasn't one…God, and she said it with complete honesty in her eyes and voice. She is rarely anything but completely honest._

_ And then…I don't know if I was merely overwhelmed by this, or because I knew I would be leaving soon. For once, I didn't gently push her away. I took her hand in mine and caressed her fingers. They were small, delicate things, rough from so many years of hard work, but I wouldn't want them any other way. Then I looked into her eyes, and all I wanted to do was kiss her, and I think she wanted that too. But just before we could – I swear, we had to be a breath away from each other – the door to the courtyard from the servants' hall was slammed open by the hall boys doing their last chores. Thankfully, they hadn't noticed us, but Anna rushed away looking shaken._

_ As I watched her walk away, all I could feel – and what I still feel now – is that there can only be one word described for our love: hopeless._

* * *

November had arrived, pushing away the last of the warm weather. The air was now chilly, and occasionally powerful gusts of wind would make it even more chilly. It was no wonder that most people agreed that November was the most disagreeable month of the year.

Thankfully, on Anna's half-day, the sun was out and the winds were gentle. And Anna's mood was cheery and excited at the prospect of how she would be spending her afternoon off. For once, she had something better to do than read John's journal. Today, she would be catching up with an old friend.

When she came into the village square, Anna deliberately slowed her steps, trying to sense whether or not he was there, watching her. But she did not feel his presence, and couldn't help but sigh a little. Deciding to stay hopeful, in case he was on his way, Anna walked to their tree and slipped what she had brought into the knothole – one of Mrs. Patmore's muffins that he liked so much, wrapped tightly to seal the warmth and flavor.

"Anna!"

A familiar voice she had not heard in years brought Anna's attention to the path. Coming down it towards her, dressed in a smart coat and day dress, her hand holding her hat as she ran to her, was Gwen. A smile lit up Anna's whole face and she rushed to her. The two young women embraced tightly after so long. "Oh, I've missed you!" exclaimed Anna, once they pulled apart.

"You, too, Anna," said Gwen, hooking her arm through hers. "Come. Let's go somewhere warm and have a proper catch-up."

The two young women walked through the square and to the Grantham Arms, where there was a nice restaurant and pub on the ground floor. They ordered some food and warm cider and quickly fell into talking.

Looking at Gwen, Anna could not feel happier for her. It was clear from her appearances that her new life agreed with her. The outfit she wore was well-tailored and in top-condition, and very flattering to her. The familiar auburn hair and freckle-face were still there, but a new and healthy glow seemed to radiate from her, as it only can from someone content with their life and work.

"So, you are happy then, Gwen?" asked Anna when their food had come.

"Oh, yes, Anna," replied Gwen earnestly, in that distinct accent Anna had missed so much. "The job that Lady Sybil and Mr. Branson helped me get was enough to be a great reference for my job in London now, in a law office. In my spare time, I teach a class in typing and shorthand to women like me, who want to change their lives."

"Oh, Gwen, I'm so proud of you!" said Anna, her eyes filling with tears for a moment, but then blinked away.

"Well, enough about me," said Gwen firmly. "I'm more worried about you, Anna. I didn't need to read between the lines of your letters to learn how miserable you've been since Mr. Bates left like that; don't bother to deny it. But something's happened, hasn't it? Your last letter seemed much more cheery."

Anna gave a small smile at Gwen's observational skills. She had not told Gwen about finding Mr. Bates again, not wanting to commit it to paper. Also, she had debated about revealing this to Gwen, for Mr. Bates did not want to be found. However, before seeing Gwen today, Anna had decided to confide in her. Besides the fact that she loved and trusted Gwen like a sister, Gwen no longer had ties to Downton Abbey and was completely unknown to that awful woman. She would be safe in telling Gwen everything.

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact. Something happened in July…" And from there, Anna went on to tell the whole story: spotting Mr. Bates in the village, Sir Richard Carlisle finding his location, meeting again at The Red Lion, the agreement the two had come to, and now the period of waiting, working and hoping for their future together.

By the time Anna finished, Gwen's brown eyes were as wide as saucers. Though she'd suspected the feeling Anna and Bates held for each other months before the war had broken out, it hadn't been until after she'd left Downton that Anna had confided in her about it. This was understandable, considering the fact that relationships between servants were highly frowned upon, and confiding in Gwen then would have put her in an unfair and difficult position. Just as they had supported Gwen in her dream to be a secretary, Gwen supported them in their dream to build a life together. So the story Anna told today couldn't have made her happier. "Oh, Anna, thank goodness! I'm so happy for you both."

"Don't say that yet, Gwen, please," said Anna, trying not to smile herself. "I let my hopes rise once, and they were shattered. I will not let myself get excited or happy about this until he is a free man and back with me."

Gwen nodded in understanding. So she took Anna's hand across the table and said, "Well, then let me be a little happy for you, Anna. I'm happy that the two of you are working hard for the life you want. I know you don't want to raise your hopes too high but don't let them crumble completely. There were so many times at Downton I felt sure I could never escape the life I had. But you two helped me, as well as Lady Sybil, and now I have it. Just as it happened for me, Anna, I truly believe it will happen for you both. There are no two people on this Earth more deserving than you."

Anna had to blink back tears again as she squeezed Gwen's hand, so grateful for this dear friend.

"Now," said Gwen, when the two had resumed their light meal. "Tell me all of the house gossip. I don't work there anymore, so leave nothing back!"

* * *

Anna had been right to hope: Mr. Bates had indeed been running late, for he'd had to work an extra shift during midday. Now he came to Downton Village extremely annoyed with himself, worried that Anna had already come and gone or was not even coming at all. It had been a while since they'd made an exchange through their tree.

But when he came to the tree, he found the wrapped muffin and smiled. She had been here – or was still in the village running errands. Since he could think of nothing better to do on his day off, Bates found his spot behind a tree and some bushes to keep an eye out for her but hid himself very well. He ate the delicious muffin as he waited.

A few minutes after he had finished, John saw two familiar figures coming out of the Grantham Arms and to the village square. Their arms were linked, and they were talking with smiles on their faces. One was Anna, and the other was Gwen, whom he had not seen since she had left Downton. A smile spread across his face at the sight. Both women looked happy, and John was glad they had gotten together again.

When they approached the special tree, Anna's steps slowed and her smile grew even wider. She reached inside the knothole and pulled out the white and pink rose he had left for her there, and delighted in the way her cheeks flushed when she found it. Gwen clasped her hands together and giggled at the sight. They exchanged a few more sincere words, which John was too far away to hear, and embraced warmly. Anna then made her way out of the square towards Downton Abbey, holding the rose to her nose the entire time.

When she was out of sight, John turned his gaze back to Gwen, who was looking around the square for something. Knowing perfectly well what that was, John came out of his hiding place and she spotted him. They made their way towards each other and grasped hands. "Mr. Bates, it's so good to see you again!"

"And you as well, Gwen," said Mr. Bates. "You look wonderful."

"I _am _wonderful, thank you." Gwen proceeded to tell him about her new life and job in London, which John had not known about. Though Anna had always told him of Gwen through their letters, this must have happened after Vera had forced John to leave. He was as happy for Gwen as Anna was, and he told her as much.

"Thank you, Mr. Bates," said Gwen, her tone turning serious. "Well, I have to get going if I don't want to miss my train. But I really do wish you and Anna all the luck and happiness in the world. And please let me know when this whole mess is over so I can congratulate you in person."

"Of course we will, Gwen. Thank you for everything."

* * *

_Twenty-fifth of July, 1914_

_ My God, how strange it was yesterday and today not to have Anna beside me for meals. This is the longest period of time I've gone without seeing her since coming to Downton. It's like not having a piece of me there. I feel almost exposed without her, as if I'm not dress warmly enough when walking at dawn on an early spring morning. Of course I thought it a good idea for her to go with Mrs. Patmore to London, for no one would be better to have by their side during such a frightening time than Anna. _

_ But of course I miss her. Did she really feel she had to ask me that before she left? Perhaps she did, with how guarded I must always be to her about our hearts, even after nearly kissing her two months ago. I wonder if she's taken my advice and is trying not to miss me…I wish I didn't wish she weren't…_

* * *

Normally, Lady Sybil was animated and talkative when Anna tended on her. There never seemed to be a limit to the well of curiosity, enthusiasm, and genuine sincerity in her heart and mind. Anna had always enjoyed it when tending to her, for she enjoyed discussions that went beyond affairs of the housework. Especially with her John not here anymore, she valued these conversations with Lady Sybil twice as much now.

However, on this late November night, Lady Sybil was uncharacteristically silent and pensive. When Anna had finished braiding her hair, she softly asked, "Is something the matter, m'lady?"

Sybil sighed. "I received word today…George Dirby died in combat in the Battle of Cambrai."

Anna only vaguely recognized the name as belonging to one of the many families the Crawleys were familiar with. "I'm sorry, m'lady."

Sybil heaved a frustrated sigh as she wiped a tear from her eye. "I didn't even know him that well, and still I'm…It just seems that every boy I ever knew is falling in this war, if not dying then injured in some horrible way. The images from the hospital haunt me every night. It's so unfair and horrible!"

Anna looked sadly at the young woman, who had certainly seen things no daughter of a lord had seen before, in her work as a nurse. "I believe you're right, m'lady," said Anna. "As I recall, Mr. Bates once told me that, after his time in Africa with his Lordship, he came to the conclusion that war's biggest and worst result was a terrible waste of youth."

Sybil nodded, pensive. "He's absolutely right. A waste of youth, their bodies, their spirits, their hearts…After working on so many, I can't help but feel so grateful that Matthew is all right, and Papa made it through the Boers in one piece. Thanks to Mr. Bates, of course."

Anna froze for a moment and looked at Lady Sybil inquiringly. "Mr. Bates, m'lady?"

Lady Sybil turned around on her chair, her eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. "I'm surprised he never told you, Anna. I know how close of friends you two were. Well, Papa told us that Mr. Bates saved his life in the wars, pushing him out of the way of an enemy bullet. Unfortunately, the bullet got Mr. Bates in the leg."

His handicap now fully explained, Anna's eyes filled with tears. She couldn't help but bring her fingers to her mouth to keep from crying. When she could speak again, she said, "He wouldn't have ever mentioned it…he's far too humble for that…"

Lady Sybil stared at Anna as a revelation filled her. _She's in love with him…of course, that explains everything! I would have noticed sooner had I not been away for my nurse's training…_But, rather than mentioning it or confronting Anna with it, she wisely chose to keep silent about it.

After all, the last thing Lady Sybil wanted anybody to do was confront herself about her own matters of the heart…

* * *

_Second of August, 1914_

_ The entire household is somber tonight, as well it should be. A cruel hand of fate has been dealt for his Lordship and her Ladyship: to have a pregnancy so late in life only to have it dashed away by miscarriage in a tragic accident. And it isn't only the family that is in mourning; all of us downstairs are affected by it._

_ Well, all but one, and it's easy to guess who. I am only glad that someone was finally able to give him what he deserved, even if none of us expected it to be William. I am very glad he is not in trouble for giving Thomas a good beating; even Mr. Carson understood that poor William could only take so much of Thomas's horrible insults about the mother he's just lost. I only hope that Thomas's boasts of leaving before war comes are genuine and not just hot air. He stays any longer and it may be Mr. Carson who hits him next._

_ Or myself, for that matter. Thomas may not give a damn about the family we serve, and if he has a problem with that he never should have entered service in the first place. True, some of us have more cause than others downstairs to share the pain with the family, such as myself, Anna and O'Brien, who tend and dress them day to day. Even O'Brien herself was somber tonight, which only made Thomas look even more cruel than he…no, I take that back, he really _was _that cruel._

_ Seeing his lordship after the doctor left was very sobering. He confided in me that the baby had been, in fact, the boy he had so wished for and would have saved all of Downton's questions of inheritance. All I could do was stand there and watch as he sobbed, feebly offering anything I could do…As if there would be anything I could do in a situation like this. So many times in the war, I watched him battle fears that he might never come home and see his family again, but never before have I seen him cry. In a way, I felt honored that he trusted me so, both then and now, and that he knows my loyalty to him._

_ Then came the good news he says he needed today: I will not be leaving Downton. All his Lordship said was that Anna had told him what she had learnt in London, and that, apparently, is the reason I'm staying. I haven't yet had a chance to have a private word with Anna; she went straight to bed after finishing her work, for she was tired after seeing to all of the girls this particular night. So I suppose I will have to wait awhile to find out exactly what she learned and what exactly she did to discover it…Perhaps she called on my mother…_

* * *

With a sigh, Anna was about to close the diary when she saw something. Sticking between the pages of the next entry was a filled envelope, already opened and addressed in an unfamiliar hand. Pulling it out, Anna pulled out a folded letter, in the same unfamiliar handwriting. But it did not take her long at all to realize who wrote it, and it left her in tears of all emotions by the end:

**My dear John,**

** I know that I am still waiting for a reply to my last letter, but I simply must tell you what happened today. A young woman came to call on me named Anna Smith. It wasn't long until I realized that this was the very same Anna whom you write so much to me about. From your descriptions and stories, I had already formed a high opinion of her; meeting her has only increased my respect and affection. **

** In fact, she reminds me of the midwife who delivered you. I don't think I've ever told you this story before. I'm sorry to say this, my boy, but your labor was a long and difficult one – nearly twenty-four hours, in fact. As my first child, we all knew this labor would be difficult, but you were quite a big baby and that was no help either. As a new mother, I was absolutely terrified, and my mother couldn't be with me because her sister in Scotland was sick and needed her more. As for your Pa, you know he had to wait downstairs. So the only one who was with me throughout it all was a midwife younger even then me. She was a small thing, looked very fragile, but she had a strength and will of iron. Never did she panic, always remaining calm, and her kindness and patience truly helped me. **

** After meeting Anna today, I knew she was made of that kind of strength and heart. She came here wanting to know the story of your imprisonment, for she was certain you were innocent. If I didn't already like her, I would have right then and there. And it didn't surprise me that you hadn't already explained yourself to her, for she specifically asked to know what you were not telling her. **

** Before she left, I knew she was in love with you. It was plain as day in her eyes and the way she said your name: "Mr. Bates." It makes me laugh to hear you called that; make me think of your Pa. Not to mention how much she is doing to try and clear your name. Why you couldn't have married her instead of that woman…well, we'll not go into all that again. Unfortunately, what's done is done. But John, you would be making a terrible mistake by shutting this woman out. She is no fool: she is strong and she is brave. I highly doubt she would run for the hills if you told her your story.**

** John, I know how much you wish to be a good and honorable man, not willing to burden others with your problems, feeling that you must either solve them alone or live with them alone. But, my dearest boy, this also means that anybody can believe anything of you, even the worst. I know you fear there is something terrible inside you, and that you may hurt anybody who came to close. You have a temper, I'll not deny that. But it only comes out when good and provoked, as it should. You've seen more of the evil in this world than most should, John; it doesn't mean you don't deserve any good for yourself.**

** The heart of a woman is one of the most precious gifts in the world, John. She's given you hers, whether you like it or not. And if I know my boy at all – and I like to think I do – she's at least on her way to having yours as well. I also know my boy would treat that heart like the treasure it is, once he realized how precious it was.**

** I have faith in you, John, that you will do right by her and by yourself in time. Always know that. My thoughts and prayers are with you both.**

**Your loving Ma**


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

_Dear Mr. Bates:_

_ As you know, the holidays are approaching fast with the arrival of December. I know that you and Anna must want to exchange gifts, especially with you two maintaining distance until all of the obstacles are crossed. If there is anything I can do to help in making sure your gifts reach each other, please let me know. It would not be a task but a pleasure._

_Sincerely, Lady Mary Crawley._

_P.S. Anna is very anxious that she give you something special for Christmas. If there is anything specific that she could give you, let me know and I will tell her and help her any way I can._

* * *

_Dear Lady Mary:_

_ Many thanks for your note of inquiry about Anna and myself exchanging gifts. Of course I am set on giving her something special, and I know exactly what that will be. Because of its personal value, I would feel more comfortable passing it along from you directly to Anna, rather than putting it in the mail, so if that really would not be too much trouble for you, I would greatly appreciate it. Let me know if and when you would be willing to come to Kirbymoorside to make the exchange. Anna trusts you, so I do as well, especially after how you've helped her._

_Sincerely, John Bates_

_P.S. In answer to your question, there is actually something that I would like to receive from Anna for Christmas, though it may take some convincing from you in order for her to agree to it…_

* * *

The early December air was crisp and clear as Anna and Lady Mary got out of the car in the village of Ripon. The sun was out, bright if not very warm. Lady Mary nodded to Branson, saying, "We'll be finished in about an hour."

"Very good, m'lady," said the Irish chauffer, shooting Anna a curious look as to what they were up to. Anna could only shrug in response before following Lady Mary away, for she had no idea either. Fearing she would appear impatient or annoying and demanding if she asked where they were going and what they were doing, Anna remained silent. She would find out eventually, after all.

When they reached their destination, Anna couldn't help but feel a little surprised. They had arrived outside of a portrait shop in Ripon, where people could have their personal portraits taken by photograph. It certainly explained why Lady Mary had asked Anna to bring along new hair tools and accessories, if she wanted her picture taken. _But who for? Mr. Matthew, maybe? But I thought she was trying to stay respectful of his engagement. Or perhaps he asked for it? _

As Anna continued to speculate, she followed her employer inside and stood behind her while she spoke to the woman inside. Finally, Lady Mary turned to her with a smile and said, "This way, then."

The two women followed the woman in charge to a small room that had a mirror, vanity table, and chair, fresh sunlight coming in through the window. When Lady Mary and Anna were left alone, the former turned to the latter with an eager smile on her face. "All right, take a seat."

Anna blinked. "I beg your pardon, m'lady?"

"Take a seat, Anna," replied Lady Mary more firmly. "I'm well aware that I have little to no skill in hairdressing, but I'm sure you can come up with something for yourself."

Anna's eyes now widened. "M'lady…_I'm _the one whose portrait will be taken?"

"Yes, Anna," said Lady Mary. "I'm sorry for not telling you before, but I did not think you would agree."

"But _why_, m'lady?" asked Anna, trying her very best not to sound impertinent to her employer. "What possible reason could there be for having _my _picture taken?"

Lady Mary smiled, and took out a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her jacket. "The best reason there is," she replied as she handed the note to Anna. Confused, the young housemaid unfolded the paper and read, her eyes widening with each word. When she was finished, her hands were trembling slightly and her mouth was open in a small 'o.' When she looked back up at Lady Mary, there were tears in her eyes. "Well…" she gasped. "I suppose I can't really argue with this reason, can I?"

Lady Mary smiled gently and took Anna's hand. "No, I should think not. Come on."

The female employee led them back into the studio with a smile and a "Right this way, please."

* * *

Sarah O'Brien sat in silence beside her Ladyship in the back of the car, with Branson at the wheel. The two of them had gone to an acclaimed couture dressmaker in Kirbymoorside, to order a new holiday evening dress for her Ladyship. Now the two women sat in satisfied, contented silence as the car drove through the village. Both were looking absently out their windows, not really focusing on any particular sight.

That is, at first. Then something caught O'Brien's eye as the car drove past the train station. Among the bundled figures walking towards the entrance, O'Brien's eyes focused on one man that was easily distinguished from the rest by his slower, limping step and cane. But in the next moment, he had disappeared into the station before O'Brien could get a good look.

"O'Brien, something wrong?" asked her Ladyship kindly. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

The lady's maid turned her head from the window to her employer and forced a calm smile to her face. "I'm perfectly fine, m'lady, thank you."

Her Ladyship accepted this and turned her gaze back to her own window. But O'Brien turned her gaze to her gloved hands resting in her lap as she thought of what she had just seen.

There was no doubt in her mind that she had seen Mr. Bates. His profile was unmistakable to her, having worked with him for four years. She was surprised, to say the least. When he had left, she had heard that he had gone back to London with that horrible wife of his. Why then was he in Kirbymoorside, and what did it mean?

O'Brien stole a glance at her employer sitting beside her, remembering the times after Bates's departure that her husband had come to their room, and spoken of his regret about Bates. As far as she knew, his Lordship still hoped to reconcile with Bates if he ever found him.

And what of Anna, whom she now considered a friend? Bates's departure had devastated Anna, though she had tried not to show it. Shouldn't O'Brien tell her, at the very least? Then again, would Anna even want to know anything of Bates now? Since O'Brien had come to know Anna, she had noticed that the young housemaid seemed stronger and more prone to smiling than she had once been, which O'Brien could only attribute to the healing effect of time. Would telling her news of Bates destroy the healing that had been done rather than improve it?

By the time the car had come back to Downton, O'Brien had come to the decision to keep silent about seeing Bates. At least, for now. If his Lordship found Bates again and there was a reconciliation, there would be a very good chance that he would ask Bates to come back and be his valet again. This would mean Lang would have to be dismissed, and O'Brien didn't want that. She worried about her dear friend enough, and didn't like to think what could happen to him if he were forced away in his condition.

But perhaps what confirmed her decision with finality was her lack of proof. She had only glimpsed Bates in a crowd of people, and since he was supposed to be in London, she could very well be mistaken.

Once, there had been a time when Sarah O'Brien would have no qualms whatsoever about passing along premature or flimsy information with little or no truth. But Sarah O'Brien had changed.

* * *

Christmastime at Downton was always a busy time for the people residing there, both upstairs and downstairs. For the family, it meant numerous calls and guests in honor of the holiday, including a small trip to London. For downstairs, it meant decorating the huge house and making sure the house was in perfect condition for all of the guests and small parties that would be given.

During this month of December, Anna found herself thinking back to the previous Christmas on numerous occasions. There were some similarities, of course: Mr. Bates was not present, and Anna threw herself into her mountain of work as a distraction. However, her frame of mind was very different from what it had been the previous year: then it had been hopeless, now it was hopeful. Last year, she had been surprised by all of the kindness that had been shown to her by everybody at Downton she knew. Now, she welcomed it and tried to show as much as she could in return. This was especially true with her new friends, O'Brien and Lang. All three of them enjoyed the celebrations downstairs much more than they had the previous year. O'Brien's laughter was heard for the first time in the servants' hall; Lang smiled more than he ever had since the war; Anna even sang a Christmas carol when she was asked to.

The celebrations downstairs were especially wonderful during this wartime for, even though Bates was still absent, William visited on his Christmas leave. Only Thomas did not smile at the mere sight of him. Daisy blushed and giggled much more than she ever had before, which made both William and Anna very happy. It seemed him being away at war had finally opened Daisy's young heart, for on Christmas Day, she agreed to be William's wife. The celebrations were the definition of joy in the servants' hall that night.

Lady Mary noticed as much when Anna prepared her for bed Christmas night. But she also noted the smallest stroke of melancholy in the portrait of Anna's happiness. Lady Mary knew what it meant only too well, and was relieved that now was the right time to erase it.

"I know you would never let on to anybody, Anna," said Lady Mary, turning around on her dressing table stool to look at Anna directly. "But I'm sure that, especially when William and Daisy announced their happy news, you must miss Bates terribly today."

Anna sighed and shrugged. "There really is no point in trying to deny it; by this time, it goes without saying."

Lady Mary nodded. Then she got up and walked to her bedside table, opening the drawer just as she had three months ago when she had given Anna the birthday present from Bates. Now she gave Anna his Christmas present, and a huge smile lit up the housemaid's face. Ever since reading the note that her John had written to Lady Mary, she had wondered constantly what his gift to her would be. Now she would find out.

With a look of immense gratitude, Anna dismissed herself and made her way to her own room. She was not surprised that Ethel was not there yet, and for once did not worry or wonder why; her mind was too preoccupied for that now. All she did know was that Ethel would be awhile, and Anna would take full advantage of her absence.

Once she had changed into her nightwear and braided her hair, Anna settled under the covers and caressed the small package with her fingers before slowly untying the twine and taking off the brown paper. Inside was a small box, as well as a small, folded note. She immediately opened the latter and read her beloved's writing:

_Darling Anna,_

_Each day I miss you more than I can say, but our time apart will not last much longer. I have no doubt in my mind that this will be the last Christmas we spend apart. In the meantime, I give you the most precious thing that my mother left for me when she died. She left it to me with the promise that I would one day give it to you. Put it by your key until the day I can put it where it truly belongs. _

_I love you._

_Your John_

Hastily wiping away the tears that had formed, Anna set aside the note and slowly opened the small, simple box. She gasped when she saw what was inside. On a simple cushion rested a simple golden ring. A simple golden band with an engraved design: a heart, wearing a crown, cradled by two hands. It was beautiful in its simplicity and meaning, which Anna could sense by the words John had used.

Someday soon, this would be her wedding ring.

Anna had a great wish to try it on, just for a moment, but she resisted. It would be much sweeter when John placed it on her finger. So, she took off the chain around her neck (for the first time since she'd first put it on) and did as he requested with the ring. Once she had done that, Anna blew out her candle and settled in to a sleep of heavenly peace.

* * *

John's Christmas had been a quiet one, in comparison. Though he held no true beliefs, he'd attended the midnight mass at the Catholic Church in Ripon. His Irish mother had ensured he have a strict Catholic upbringing, and though he couldn't call himself a Catholic, the familiar ceremonies and sacraments soothed him somewhat. Also, he hadn't wanted to be completely alone on Christmas, especially since he couldn't be with the woman he loved yet.

After the mass, John sat in the smaller, adjoining chapel dedicated to the Holy Mother while the other parishioners filed out. He silently pulled out a wrapped, flat package he had received the previous afternoon, along with the letter that came with it from Anna. He read it again:

_My dear Mr. Bates,_

_ I only did this because you made the request. When we are together again, don't expect me to do it again. If I have my way, we will never be apart long enough for us to miss each other again. I'll continue to count the days until I am yours and you are mine in every way._

_I love you._

_Your Anna_

Smiling softly, he folded the letter again and carefully unwrapped his gift. Though he knew what the present would be, that didn't make him any less excited. And even when he finally laid eyes on the photograph, his breath was still taken away.

True, it would never measure up to the real thing, but until they were reunited, it would have to do. The smallest, most gentle smile was on her lips, and John stroked the glass covering her photograph as tenderly as if it were her cheek.

_Soon, my love, I promise you…Happy Christmas._

* * *

**A/N: **_Six more chapters to go until the ending. The last few chapters have been filler chapters in order to account for the passage of time, but next chapter will have more drama. _


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **_Yes, I am perfectly aware of how inexcusably long it's been since an update. I didn't get a lot of feedback for the last chapter, and it made me lazy and a bit bitter, won't lie. _

_But if you want to blame anybody for taking me away from this fic, I have two words that will make you understand and forgive me: _Benedict Cumberbatch. _See what I mean?_

* * *

**Thirteen**

_The night was beautiful, that could not be disputed. Anna's gaze was turned to the stars in their many beautiful patterns, wishing she could read them. She wished she could read the future in them, as some people claimed to, and find a promise of peace, hope, that this war would be as short-lived as possible. She felt shaken to the core after the announcement made today at the garden party. An air of somberness had settled over all of Downton, with an underlying of fear and tension just beneath it._

_ Having lived her whole life in Yorkshire, first on her family's farm and then at Downton, Anna could say that she had lived a pretty sheltered life, only experiencing the rest of the world through books, snippets of conversations, and the occasional trip to London. In her state of melancholy, she wondered how could she ever believe that a man with such extensive life experience as Mr. Bates would ever…_

_ As if sensing her thoughts were of him, the very man appeared in the servants' courtyard. For a moment, he just stood by the door looking up at the stars, and then he approached her. Gesturing to the space on the crate beside Anna, he asked, "May I?" Ever the gentleman._

_ Anna only nodded. Once he had sat down, he turned to her. "Are you all right?" Mr. Bates asked, his tone gentle. _

_ A lump rose in Anna's throat at his tone, but cleared her throat before she spoke. "Is anybody in England truly all right tonight?"_

_ Mr. Bates nodded in acknowledgement of her point, and turned his gaze back to the heavens. "What are you still doing up at this hour?" _

_ "Couldn't sleep," was Anna's simple answer. It was the truth; she could not fall asleep easily when everyone's world had been so shaken. "What about you?" _

_ Mr. Bates sighed. "Long conversation with his Lordship. I suppose he wanted to speak to the only person in this house who experienced war alongside him, who would understand everything that it entails…" He sighed again. "But we both know somehow…this war will be, not only different, but…" _

_ "Worse?" Anna finished his sentence for him, both knowing and fearing it was the right word._

_ Mr. Bates merely confirmed it with a nod._

_ After a moment of heavy silence, Anna could no longer hold back her questions. "Will his Lordship return to the army?"_

_ "He wants to, quite badly. That man has the deepest sense of honor and loyalty to his home and country I will ever know. But I overheard her Ladyship make him swear he will not return to active duty again, so…he's considering going to London, serve from there."_

_ Anna took a deep breath, and her voice couldn't help but shake a bit as she asked her second question, even though she already knew the answer. "Would you follow him?"_

_ Though she did not look at him, she could feel his soft gaze turn to her. When he spoke, his voice was even more soft and tender than before. "I'll never join the army again. I may have served them well in the past, but now I am a limping, middle-aged servant with a criminal record. Hardly what the army is looking for in a soldier. Besides, this war will bring a lot of eager young men, ready to fight for their country's glory…God help them…" He paused in sadness for a moment before talking again. "But, if his Lordship goes to London or anywhere else, and asks me to serve him again…I would."_

_ Anna nodded slowly, still not looking at him. She asked her third and final question: "Would you be glad to be in London again?"_

_ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his gaze back to the heavens. He spoke more to himself than to her now, becoming lost in thought. "All things considered, I believe I would be quite glad to be in London again. Would make things easier, for one."_

_ Those words cut Anna to the core; she could think of only one reason for that. She turned her face fully away from him, trying desperately to hold back a sob. But a sniffle couldn't help but escape. Mr. Bates immediately turned all of his attention to her. "Anna, what –?"_

_ "I'm sorry," she said, wiping away the tears that had escaped her eyes, keeping her body turned away from him. "I know it would be much easier for you if I didn't love you, but I can't help it. I would stop if I could, but there's nothing I can do. It's because I love you that I searched for the truth in London, even though you wanted me to leave you be. I just couldn't let your name be dragged through the mud when you didn't deserve it."_

_ The words were pouring out of Anna now, and she couldn't stop them if she tried. The entire experience of the day, from her conversation with Mr. Bates at the garden party to the announcement of war with Germany, had left her shaken and vulnerable. An irrational – or perhaps rational – fear that the world as they knew it could end at any moment compelled her to reveal her heart once and for all. After all, if he went away, she couldn't guarantee that she would get another opportunity in their lifetimes._

_ She now looked at her lap, on which she rested her shaking hands. "Mr. Bates, I don't know what this war will bring to all of us, and I can't imagine the possible horrors. But please know this, if and when you leave here: My heart is yours, even if you don't want it, and it always will be. Please just take comfort in the fact that someone on this earth loves you, prays for you, and believes in you."_

_ Anna wanted to disappear right then and there, especially when she was met with silence once she was finished. But she did not want to rush away from the man she loved like a weak child crying for something she can't have; she wanted to walk back inside with dignity, strength head held high. So she took deep breaths to calm herself, and closed her eyes tightly when one last tear escaped and fell on her hands._

_ Then, Anna felt a warmth envelop and still her trembling hands. Opening her eyes, she saw that his large hands had taken hers on her lap, and were holding them securely. Then he spoke softly but with conviction: "Anna, look at me."_

_ Slowly, embarrassed by her tears, Anna turned her head towards him. She bit back a gasp at the emotion shining in his hazel eyes. Were her own tears fooling her vision, or did his eyes hold tears as well?_

_ His tone matched his eyes. "Do you really believe that I do not know what a treasure I have in your heart?"_

_ Anna opened her mouth but closed it, truly not knowing what to say._

_ He continued. "Oh, Anna…I could never lie to you. I won't deny that it would be easier if what we felt for each other did not go beyond friendship. There are so many reasons for us not to feel this way about each other…and yet, here we are. When I said I would be happy to be in London again, I did _not _mean I would be happy to be away from you. That is something that could never, _never _make me happy. What I meant was…" He took a deep breath. "Being in London will make it easier to look for Vera."_

_ Anna's eyes widened as she took in the meaning behind his reason, the meaning that was shining in his eyes. "You…you mean you…" _

_ He interrupted her gently but firmly, his grip on her hands tightening a bit. "Anna, I cannot promise you anything, much as I want to. I've told you already that nothing is harder to live with than false hope, and I don't want to give you anything. Even if I find her, there is no guarantee that I will be able to divorce her, and even then it would take months if not years. _

_ "But the promise of war has a way of making one see what really matters and what doesn't. And what matters to me the most is you, Anna. My heart has been yours from the start. I will try, Anna; I will do everything I can to make a life for us. This I promise you."_

_ When he finished speaking, Anna closed her eyes in pure relief, slightly overwhelmed by this new step they had taken. This was all she had wanted to hear from him, and now that it was happening…_

_ Needing a moment to process everything and confirm this was reality, Anna let her head rest on Mr. Bates's shoulder, burying her face and the few tears that needed to come out into the fabric of his jacket. They held hands tightly, and Mr. Bates rested his cheek on the crown of her head._

_ "Anna…"_

_ And then there was a sharp jerk –_

* * *

"Anna, wake up!"

The head housemaid's eyes flew open to see Ethel's worried face above her, her hand shaking Anna's shoulder. In the distance, she could hear strangled and terrified cries. Waking fully up at the sound, Anna jumped out of bed. As she put her gray robe on, Ethel lit a candle after wrapping her green shawl haphazardly around her shoulders. Anna followed her out of the room.

Mrs. Hughes and Miss O'Brien were just coming out of their rooms now. "Mrs. Hughes?" asked Ethel in confusion and fear.

"What is it? Who's shouting?" demanded Anna, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Mrs. Hughes was at their door, unlocking it with one hand and holding a lamp with the other. "I've yet to find out."

"It's Mr. Lang," whispered Miss O'Brien so quietly only Anna could hear. Her face held the most terror.

Anna and Miss O'Brien were right behind Mrs. Hughes as they crossed the gender boundary, with Ethel right behind them. Miss O'Brien's fear turned out to be right, for Mr. Carson and Thomas were already approaching Mr. Lang's room. They entered and turned on the light, with the women close behind.

Anna saw Mr. Lang lying on his bed, the bed sheets twisted around his legs, sweat drenching his body through his night clothes. Still asleep, he screamed in agony, "No, no, I can't do it! _I can't do it!_"

Mr. Carson rushed to him and started to shake him. "Mr. Lang? Mr. Lang, wake up. You're having a bad dream, Mr. Lang! You're having a dream!"

Mr. Lang's eyes flew open, and he sat up while clutching Mr. Carson's arm desperately. He had the look of a mad and desperate man. "It's the soldiers, Mr. Carson! It's the soldier's, but I can't! _I can't go back, no matter what!_"

Miss O'Brien, her face reflecting more emotion than it ever had before, rushed to him and took his hand, while her other hand rubbed his back.

"No one's asking you to go back, Mr. Lang," Mr. Carson said firmly, trying to calm him down.

Thomas, who now looked bored, muttered, "No, just to put a sock in it," and blew out his candle. Anna threw him a disgusted look, though he didn't see it, before looking back at Mr. Lang in worry. Ethel stood beside her in uncomfortable silence.

"Don't worry, Mr. Lang," said Miss O'Brien, soothing him like a mother would soothe her son, though one could hear the fear beneath her firmness. "You've had a bad dream, that's all."

Mr. Lang went quiet, and turned his frightened gaze to Miss O'Brien, who squeezed his hand. "Is it a dream?" he asked, his voice hoarse from screaming and sounding like a child. He then wiped the tears from his face with his free hand, though more just came out. "Thank God…" he breathed, his voice breaking. "Thank God."

Mr. Carson looked at Mrs. Hughes, motioning an order with his head. Mrs. Hughes turned around and gestured for Ethel, Thomas and Anna to leave the room and go back to bed. Anna was the last to leave the room, and before she walked down the hallway, she turned around to look back into Mr. Bates's former room. Miss O'Brien was helping a now weeping Mr. Lang lie back down as the butler and housekeeper watched in empathetic silence. Miss O'Brien looked at them and said fiercely, sadly, "Is it any wonder when he's been to hell and back?"

Anna lowered her eyes in sadness and made her way back to her room. Ethel and her settled into bed in silence, not wanting to discuss what had just happened. Ethel fell back asleep in minutes, but it took Anna a little longer, for the memory she had just dreamed of and what had just happened kept replaying over and over in her mind…

* * *

The next morning, Mr. Lang handed in his resignation, and by the evening he was gone. his Lordship was surprisingly gracious about it, even insisting he get a little extra with his parting wages. Lang was, after all, good at his job, but his Lordship could not count the number of times that he would see the haunted look glaze over Lang's expression. Carson did not argue with Lang when the resignation was handed to him; after what had happened the previous night, he certainly couldn't risk something like that happening in public or in front of those upstairs.

But he certainly felt bad. In fact, when the servants' dinner came, he took Miss O'Brien aside and asked her to take him up a tray before he left. Anna wished she could have joined Miss O'Brien, for seeing the satisfied grin on Thomas's face put her off her appetite.

* * *

After she had taken care of the girls, Anna found she could not fall asleep and face the terrible memories that were sure to haunt her dreams tonight. The departure of Mr. Lang reminded her too much of the last time a valet had left.

So, wanting some fresh air even in the winter, Anna came out in the courtyard, bundled up in her coat and scarf. When she saw a bundled up Miss O'Brien sitting on one of the crates, Anna knew that she really shouldn't be surprised. Perhaps she had thought that Miss O'Brien would have preferred to keep her emotions locked in her room.

Tentatively, Anna approached her. Miss O'Brien did not look up at her when Anna stopped, but she knew the young woman was there. Anna knew better than to ask if she was all right, so instead asked: "Would you like any company?"

"Suit yourself," was all Miss O'Brien said in acceptance of the offer. So Anna sat down beside her, and waited in silence for whatever Miss O'Brien would say, for she would surely say something.

And she did. "I'd like to tell you about my younger brother."

"Of course," said Anna, who had not been expecting that but was more than happy to help a friend. Indeed, she never thought the day would come when Sarah O'Brien would confide in _anybody_.

"His name is…_was…_David. David Joseph. I was the oldest of many siblings, but he was my especial favorite. Such a clever boy, and such a love of life. But our father was a hard man. Nothing his son did was ever good enough for him. So, when the Boer Wars commenced, David wanted to please my father so much that he enlisted. I begged him not to go, but he was determined…"

Miss O'Brien gave a deep sigh and wiped her eyes. Anna gently took her free hand, silently showing she was listening and was there for her. Miss O'Brien's hand took the hand gratefully.

"When he came back, he…he wasn't my brother anymore. He was shell-shocked, just like Mr. Lang…Every night he was tormented, and I soothed him best I could, but every night the dreams came back. He begged not to go back when he was called back to duty, but our father and his commanding officers told him to be a man and carry on…" Miss O'Brien closed her eyes, and a tear spilled down her cheek. "It wasn't a week before he was killed in action."

Anna felt Miss O'Brien's sorrow as keenly as if it were her own, being the empathetic person that she was. She covered their joined hands with her free one, laid her head gently on the older woman's shoulder, and said, "I'm so sorry, Sarah."

She hadn't meant to use Miss O'Brien's Christian name, but it seemed appropriate in such an intimate conversation. And, thankfully, Sarah took no offense. "I wouldn't mind you calling me that when it's just us," she said. "It's nice to be Sarah again."

"All right," said Anna. She lifted her head and looked at Sarah, seeing how white her lips had become because she pressed them so tightly together. "There's something else, isn't there?"

Sarah nodded. "It's Thomas's fault."

"What? How?"

"He taunted Mr. Lang all the time, and today as I passed him in the upper hallway, he said, 'Good thing I made sure that cry-baby cracked before he burned the place down.'"

Anna gasped, horrified. "Oh, that horrible blighter! I wish I could say I'm surprised…but why? He doesn't even want to work here anymore!"

Sarah shook her head. "I've been his only ally here for the longest time…and I don't think he liked the bond I was forming with you and Lang. And since your reputation and work ethic here are untouchable, Lang was an easier target for him."

Anna sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Well…does Mr. Lang at least have some family he can go to?"

Sarah nodded, the anger disappearing from her face for the moment. "He has a sister whom he loves and is taking him in…" Sarah's voice faded, and suddenly, she turned to Anna and took both of her hands. "Anna, I must ask for your help now."

"What is it, Sarah?" asked Anna, having no idea what to expect, especially the request Sarah made of her in the next moment.

* * *

Sundays were always the slowest days at The Red Lion. Mr. Bates stood behind the bar idly cleaning glasses with his back to the front door. When he heard the tinkling of the bell, he sighed and turned to face the incoming customer.

He nearly dropped the glass he was cleaning when he was that it was Miss Sarah O'Brien. If she appeared nervous as she walked up to the bar, Mr. Bates attributed it to his shock.

Once she stopped at the bar, Mr. Bates put down his glass, pressed his palms to the bar to control his anger, and growled, "Who do you think you are, coming here to –"

O'Brien said nothing, but held out an envelope to him. Looking at it, Mr. Bates saw his name written there in very familiar handwriting. Seeing that, he took it and opened it immediately:

_John,_

_ I did not betray you. She saw you in Kirbymoorside when she was shopping there with her Ladyship before Christmas, and when she asked if you were there I couldn't lie. She does not come to spite you or us. Since the autumn, the two of us have become friends, hard as that is to believe. She has changed, John, for the better, and she is coming to you for help. Please hear her out._

_Love, Anna_

After reading that, all Mr. Bates could do was give a deep sigh before looking at O'Brien again. The whole situation was no different than a magician saying the magic word on a mythical beast.

"Go sit down at a free table, I'll be with you in a minute," he said begrudgingly. O'Brien obeyed without question. _That's a first, _he thought. He tenderly folded the letter back into the envelope, slipped it into his waistcoat pocket, and finished washing the glass before walking around the bar and sitting down at the table O'Brien had chosen. He didn't say a word, but folded his arms and looked pointedly at her, waiting for her to begin.

"You've every right to be furious with me and never want to lay eyes on me again," said O'Brien, twisting the straps of her bag in her lap. "I don't come on my behalf, but on that of my dear friend. His name is Mr. Andrew Lang; he became his Lordship's valet after you left. He's a good and skilled worker, but…he'd just come back from the war. He suffers from shellshock, and was able to control it at first, but a few nights ago, Thomas provoked him and he had a violent reaction in his sleep, waking all of us servants. The next day, he resigned and left, to prevent something worse from happening."

While Mr. Bates kept his expression neutral, his inner defenses were beginning to lower. The sincerity in O'Brien's voice could not be mistaken, and the story she told was truly unfortunate. "Why did you seek me out for help?" he asked.

"Because you too have been to war, and have to carry that with you every day," replied O'Brien carefully. "He is staying here with his sister in Kirbymoorside. I know his wounds are not visible, but you could understand; that's what he needs now."

Mr. Bates did not respond for a few moments as he pondered over this unexpected request. Finally, he leaned forward a bit in his seat, his arms still crossed and guard still up. "I'll need a few questions answered first."

O'Brien nodded, ready.

"Why is it that _this_ former-soldier-now-valet marked by the war was worthy of your friendship and compassion, and not the man who came before him?"

O'Brien visibly cringed, but then she gave him as full an explanation as she could: how attached she was to Thomas at the time because he wanted the job, how she (validly) doubted he would be able to keep up in the large household, and even about her lost brother. She managed to keep her voice calm but sincere the entire time, and Mr. Bates listened without interruption. When she was finished, O'Brien waited with baited breath for his response. It had been easier to confide in him that she had thought, perhaps because now she did not view him as an enemy.

When he finally spoke, his voice was more gentle than she had ever heard it. "Well, I can't exactly introduce myself to a stranger on an intimate matter; his pride would never survive. Write to him yourself, and give my name and place of work. I can't promise anything, but if he wants to talk, I'll listen."

O'Brien breathed a great sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mr. Bates. I'll write him straightaway." They rose from the table, and stood there awkwardly until O'Brien spoke again. "I am sorry that it took me this long to see the honorable man Anna loves so much."

With that, she nodded her head to him and left the pub.

_Did that really just happen? _he thought as he walked back behind the bar. Then, he slipped his hand into his waistcoat pocket, and pulled out the letter from Anna. He smiled at it. _I suppose it did._


End file.
